Ring Rising
by AmirHobbit
Summary: History, acknowledged as such or not, is doomed to repeat itself. People, going blissfully about their everyday lives are suddenly thrown into an epic adventure.
1. Prologue

**Summary:** History, acknowledged as such or not, is doomed to repeat itself. People, going blissfully about their everyday lives are suddenly thrown into an epic adventure.  
Frodo James Baggert, victim of fate and irony, has grown up with Tolkien's Lord of the Rings all his life. Many times he is faced with things all too similar to the trilogy he loves. Now things are speeding up and becoming all too familiar as he inherits a golden Ring from his Uncle. Now he is faced with something darker than he ever imagined.   
  
  
_**Note:** I do not own any of the character's created by J.R.R Tolkiens, likeness or otherwise, nor any of the locations. If I actually wrote 'The Lord of the Rings', I wouldn't be on such a crummy computer._  
_Also, since I put this up, I have made a few changes to the ages of the "hobbit-group"._  
**  
"Prologue"**  
  
Middle-Earth, long forgotten to man as were its creatures small and large was only remembered in literature, thanks to a particularly gifted man, J.R.R Tolkien. He set the grounds for fantasy, as it is often said... or did he actually lay out pages upon pages of forgotten lore and history? This is easy to dispute.  
Alas, not all was to remain in bliss and near ignorance. Darkness was stirring again, reaching like a shadow over lands it had not seen in ages. History, it seems, is doomed to repeat itself.  
Irony only plays a small part in most people's lives, but there are some that live with it as a constant companion to their daily toils. Some are aware of irony to history and lore, and some remain ignorant and think nothing more of it. Some, irony is laid out so plainly by those who's company they keep (even their own) that there is no denying it.  
  



	2. Fade to Gray

**Chapter One, Fade to Gray  
Part One: By Chance**  
  
Life is as normal as it can be for me, I suppose. I mean, its not like I go out of my way to be unusual, that's just how I am. Ok, so I guess life isn't normal, but I like to think it is. You caught me in a lie.   
I try to be your everyday teen, you know. Average grades, junky car, hanging out with the boys. Its hard to be average when your life likes to resist your attempts. For one thing, my name. It doesn't help in the least. How would you like to fish your driver's license out and have it say 'Name: Frodo James Baggert". Yeah, thanks mom. Thanks dad. Its nice to know that your son is now doomed to ridicule because your favorite character's name sounded like a good idea at the time. Not that I don't love Lord of the Rings. How could I not when I had the parents I did. I say had because they died. Another irony. A boating accident. So I got sent away to my bizarre uncle Bob.   
The man is seriously a nut case. He disappears and reappears at weird hours, is always coming up with poetry and writing... wandering around. Sometimes I suspect he has Alzheimer's. Oh, and then there is my "Grandpa" Gary who sometimes drops in. He's a weird fellow too. Long beard, bushy eyebrows... vanishes, reappears. Is it just me or does that happen a lot in my family? Then again, I'm not even sure Gary is related to me. It seems he's been around forever and then some. I mean, he's in photo albums from way way back then. Oh well.   
Now, lets get to the three other freaks that compose my group of friends. We're all LoTR fanatics, and unfortunately short. It just doesn't work for our social status, you know. Anyway, there's my best friend (he's practically my brother... even if he's a bit on the dull side) Sam. Don't laugh. Then there's Mike and Patrick, cousins of mine. Hey, they make good friends. Oh, I'm the oldest of the group even if I don't act like it sometimes.   
My life is now pretty much summed up as it is currently, but to know what's going to happen in the future (besides you know... having Galadriel's mirror on hand) you're going to have to keep reading. I can, however, lay out a few things I know for certain are going to happen. Like, this weekend is my 18th birthday, and Bob's... whatever (who knows how old that guy is). Then, about 30 or so days after that, there's a LoTR convention that me and the boys are heading down to.  
  
Moving onto the weekend since my life really isn't that interesting (consists mostly of sleep and hanging out... oh yeah, and school. Isn't that a joy?)  
I suppose now that I look back on things I should have suspected something to happen. For one thing, Bob doesn't usually attempt to socialize with anyone much less anyone actually related to us. He just doesn't fit into the mold, and does a good job of making himself stick out and be generally disliked for being odd. Don't you love people? Secondly, there were some really weird people coming and going from our house. People Bob called old friends, "Grandpa" Gary, people bringing things that Bob's ordered from afar as gifts for all those who come to the party, and so on and so forth. I didn't even realize how many people were invited until...  
Until I was attempting to turn into the drive that leads up to our house, music blaring over my stereo, and the guys filling their respective seats. Sam in the passenger's, Mike and Patrick messing around in the back as they're usually prone to do. But lo, cars as far as the eye can see!  
"What the hell," hey, it was really the only thing that I could think of to describe the moment.  
"Oh, the party," Sam had sat up straight in his seat, and was peering through the windshield at the line of cars up my drive. Mike and Patrick were making various comments even as I rolled down the window and shouted to a guy (I didn't recognize him, but he was obviously making an attempt to direct traffic), "What's going on here?"  
"Bob Baggert and his nephew are holding a party, what are you doing here?" the man asked with a tone of indignation that some 'kid' would shout at him over the rough growl of a guitar without bothering to turn down the stereo. Sometimes its fun to aggravate people. Maybe I'm just rude. I turned down the stereo, laughing slightly, "Look, man. I am his nephew. Why are all these people here? I wasn't told there would be this many."  
He looked at me skeptically, like I was speaking a foreign language, "You're his nephew?"  
"Yeah, who are you?"  
After sometime of arguing with this man over my identity which included the build up of traffic and having to show him my driver's license, we finally got through. At least my spot in the garage was yet to be filled.  
"What do you suppose he has planned, then?" Patrick's slightly high voice reached my ears as I climbed out of the car and stared out of the garage as more vehicles filed past.  
"I haven't the faintest," I sighed in return.  
"Well, whatever it is, its something big, that's no mistake," thanks Captain Obvious, Sam. I laughed and turned a smile on him, "You think so?"  
"No use standing about and bickering over it," Mike was already walking out of the garage, "not when we could actually go and see what it is!"  
  
People, everywhere. I had never felt more like I was in an ant hill than at that moment. Its not that I hate people, don't get me wrong, I just can't stand large amounts of them. So I was basically crawling up the wall the whole party.  
And the people that were there! You would think that Bob just walked through every ill thought city of freaks in the US and invited them. I seriously wouldn't put it past him. There were tall people with long hair (both me and women), short people with beards and mustaches (men and... women? Huh?), people of my stature, people of a normal height. Dazzling, almost.  
"Frodo! Frodo!" I cringed as I heard my right name shouted, and saw Uncle Bob at last pushing through the crowd, "Frodo, my boy, I have something to tell you!"  
He separated me from Sam, Mike and Patrick through skillful steering through the crowd (I suspect Sam was eyeing Rose Carey, a girl he'd admired for sometime, anyway.)  
"Now, Frodo, I need to tell you something. You're twenty one today, are you not?" Bob held onto my arm as he spoke. He was a little taller than me, husky, with gray wispy hair and a quirky little smile. He also had a sense of fashion that was... well, severely out. Out for 90 years, out. Maybe I'm exhaderating. Maybe I'm not.  
"Yeah, why?"  
"Well, I say this with a heavy heart but... I'm leaving for good tonight. I'm going to see some old friends. Gary is helping me along, I have a little something planned. That's why everyone is here. No matter, I'm giving everything to you as according to my will-"  
"Will?"  
"Yes, Frodo, weren't you paying attention? I'm as good as dead to these people after tonight."  
"What? Why?" I was baffled at what he was saying to me. As resentful as I sometimes sound, I loved the old man dearly. He was like a father to me, I mean come on. How could I not love him? And now he was telling me that he was leaving? And that he was as good as dead to everyone here?   
"I can't stay here anymore, my lad, its just not working. I need to get out... I need to get away. You'll understand. Don't you worry about it at all. Maybe someday your Grandpa Gary will bring you to see me."  
I admit that the image of me standing over a tombstone that read "Here Lies Robert Baggert" flashed through my mind and brought tears to my eyes, "No, you can't just..."  
"Shh, shh, now, no time for tears. You'll understand, in time. Your fated to and there's no changing that."  
"Fated?"  
He'd already let go of me, and sauntered away, leaving me confused.  
"Frooooodooooo?!" Mike started wailing somewhere, and was soon accompanied by Patrick's sharper tone. I had to obey the calls of my 'people', and so I left where my Uncle had pulled my aside with a heavy heart.  
  
"Speech! Speech!" Ok, so you get a whole bunch of family members together as the remnants of a huge party, poor some beer down their throats and they're all ready to go for a speech.  
I watched Bob stand up, holding his glass aloft for an applause, knowing in the back of my mind what was coming. I still wasn't completely prepared.  
"Now what's the old coot on about?" Mike grunted in my ear and I elbowed him in the ribs sharply in revenge of my crest fallen mood.  
"My dear Baggerts, Buffingtons, Tools, Brandies..." Bob went on listing the family names, an argument on one, before he went full tilt into a speech. He's not a very good speaker, but when you're drinking as most the families were, he was good. I was awaiting the moment that he would say he was going, and simply walk away as was his manner, but it wasn't coming anytime soon apparently. People were getting restless as it was.  
Now, my Uncle was always a good magician (Gary showed him up when he actually felt like it), pulling quarters from behind people's ears, and capering about as he did... but even I did not expect this.  
"I'm going now," he said ever so quietly, then BANG! there was a flash of light and he was gone. I mean, no trace simply... vanished. There were muttering around me about him being rude and such, but I didn't care. I was too... stunned. Mike was saying something as I stood up, but I took no notice. Nor of Pat, or Sam. I just started moving off toward the house. But, I suppose it wasn't to be. I got held back in conversation trying to excuse Bob of his "charming" exit. I didn't see "Grandpa" Gary slip past me and head up toward the house.  
  
  
"You've got to be kidding me," it was the only thing I could say, staring up at the bearded stork of a man that I called "Grandpa" Gary.  
"No, not at all. He's gone away, and he's left you everything, like he said. Or, like he said he said to you."  
I was still in disbelief, and can you blame me? This couldn't get anymore bizarre, and frankly I didn't want it to. It was one of those 'ok, come out now, you've had your fun!' moments.  
"I wish I had been here to see him off.."  
"So that you could try and persuade him to stay?"  
"Well, yes..."  
Gary shoved a large envelope into my hands which he'd plucked from the counter, "I don't think that he'd like that much. Here's all his papers, and a special gift..."  
I peered inside the envelope, and besides the papers caught the glint of gold.   
"You... have got to be kidding me," I whispered, held in something like the embrace of shock. I had a bad feeling about this, as I should have.  
"Again, I'm not, its not like me to kid, my boy. Now-"  
"He left a ring," I was laughing. Wouldn't you be? Think about it for a moment. I felt stupid, and taken for a fool that my Uncle would spend so much time on a prank against my, and my deceased parents' love.  
"So he did, and I leave a warning before I must be on my way."  
I could hardly contain my laughter. This was rich.  
"Should... should I keep the ring...?" I was having problems forming my words through my laughter.  
"Oh, yes indeed you should. Though you may think it'd be useful, it may not. Don't put it on, my lad, keep it-"  
"Secret! Keep it safe!" I burst out laughing. Bob had it in for me, the old bastard.  
"Yes... keep it secret, keep it safe," Gary seemed miffed that I had stolen his thunder, and was laughing so, "What's so funny, I say?"  
"Oh, nothing! Bob's a tricky man, now, isn't he? This was very sly, very sly indeed. Cruel, but amusing! Where has he gone off to? Rivendell?" I was in a fit of giggled, but Gary's stern face caught me off guard. I thought he'd have given in by now and admitted he was in on this trick, but he wasn't. Needless to say, I sobered up real quick, "Grandpa Gary?"  
"Heed my warning, Frodo. Don't put it on... I have a suspicion.." and with that the old willow-wisp of a man disappeared into the night out the front door.   
The skin crawled up my spine, and I fished the ring out of the envelope to examine it. If this was all a joke on Bob's part, he'd spent a lot of money on it. The ring was smooth and perfectly formed, not a scratch on its gold surface. It seemed weightier than it looked in my palm, and I had to frown at it. This was not how I expected the day to end.  
It was actually a time for me to take a step back from my life, and review it in silence. Coincidence, after coincidence... I quickly sunk into denial, dropping the ring into my pocket and walking to the phone. But... Gary had said to keep it secret. Was it still secret with Sam? Of course. I started to dial, but faltered and hung up the phone. This was all to much.  
I was in over my head.  
  
  
  
  
**Part Two: Revelations**  
  
Lonely is the only word that could really describe my life at home after that night. I'd long gotten used to Bob not being there all the time, but then there had always been the possibility that he would be back with some crackpot story along with him. Now, that possibility seemed bleak. I had Sam over a lot, as well as Patrick and Mike when they could make it. Or when they wanted to.  
Life was admittedly strange. I didn't exactly believe all the implications put behind the ring, even by my own mind but there was a fear always there that something would happen. Still, the day of the con was creeping ever closer and I had to get my costume ready. I always went in costume, it was expected of me and the group. If the opening day happened to land on a school day it was known by all because there would be four hobbits running around all day. The costumes were as intricate as a hobbit-costume could be, and they took more time to get gussied up in that any of us were willing to take to delay us from getting there. So, if it did land on weekdays, we got up early and dressed before school.  
Luckily, this year was not one of those and I spent my Saturday getting ready as I would. Sam, Pat and Mike came over during the day and got ready as well.  
Bob invested in prosthetics for us long ago, even if he laughed at us for it. We wanted to accuracy, he had money and my puppy dog face was the key to his heart. So we helped each other with the proper application of ears and feet. My hair needed no curling, but the other boys needed a touch up here and there to be satisfied with authenticity. Freaks, gotta love us.  
I spent a while longer in the bathroom after the others had cleared out, looking myself over. Pointed ears, big hairy feet, cotton shirt, vest, coat, breeches and suspenders. I reached in my pocket and pulled out the ring that Bob had left me. I was still hoping the whole thing was a prank, but the glitter of the cold gold under the bathroom lights pushed doubt out of my mind and fear in. I sighed, and slipped the ring onto a silver chain that I had found before securing it around my neck.  
"Hullo Frodo!" Mike's voice greeted me as I stepped out of the bathroom and I couldn't help but smile at my cousin and return the greeting, "Hullo Merry!"  
We spent sometime laughing at each other and calling each other by our respectable hobbit names as we ambled to the car. It was a little tough getting re-adjusted to the feet, so we hobbled around the house and yard for awhile.  
Finally on our way, we made sure that we got as many strange stares as we could. There is nothing like being at an intersection and looking over to the next car to see four guys dressed like hobbits head banging. Facial expressions amuse me.  
"Eh, Frodo, what's that you've got around your neck then?" I could barely hear Sam over the music, and the question confused me. Around my neck...?  
I looked down, and the ring glittered back at me.  
"O! Bob left this for me, I think its a joke," I forced a laugh, but Sam stared at me strangely. No matter.  
  
It was really late when I unlocked my door and immediately collapsed on the first chair that I saw with a light laugh. I was tired as hell, but I'd had a lot of fun. We all had.  
Mike and Pat were on their way home, but Sam had decided to stay the night since he really didn't want to walk home and I really didn't want to drive him.  
"Come on, Frodo, get to bed. You can't just sit there and giggle to yourself all night. Nor can you sleep in those feet and ears," Sam lifted my arm, and I laughed at him. What he said sounded so funny to me, and I wasn't used to being mothered like that.  
"Its not very funny, its the truth. Come along, I'll help you if you'll help me."  
The bathroom quickly became more of a mess as we tiredly slaved about undoing the hard work of the day. I often broke into a fit of giggles I was so tired. Finally, after we'd removed the feet and ears, Sam guided me toward my room.  
"Now, Sam, I can walk on my own," I chided him, but didn't actually care. I had my eyes closed, which meant I couldn't walk on my own. He only snorted in reply and guided me until he saw me safely to my room. I didn't bother to even fully undress before I'd fallen on the bed with an unimpressive 'whumph'.  
  
  
_Vrrrrrrrr..._  
What an irritating noise to wake up to... the vacuum was going somewhere. I had a headache, and the vacuum's growl wasn't helping it.   
I climbed out of bed, shaking my head and walking down the stairs. From the foot, I could see Sam happily vacuuming the living room. Yeah, it was his job in all actuality, but it kinda embarrassed me. My best friend and his family were employees of mine, and former employees of my Uncle. I was only one person, I didn't make that much mess around the house and I was fair at cleaning up after myself.  
"Sam?" I called over the vacuum, and he shut it off to regard me.  
"Yep?"  
"What _are_ you doing?"  
"Cleaning, what else?"  
Finding nothing else to say, much less to dissuade him I simply sauntered into the kitchen to make myself breakfast. The coffee pot was already going, all I needed to do was butter my toast and pop it in the toaster.  
Going about this normal routine, I didn't notice Gary sitting at the kitchen table watching me. I didn't notice him until he grabbed my arm, "Where is it?"  
"What?!" I squeaked, then blushed at the crack in my voice. He'd surprised me.  
"The ring, my boy, the ring."  
"Oh, its here, um, in my pocket," I took the ring out on its chain and laid it on the table in front of him. He frowned after me as I went to tend the coffee pot, but I didn't take notice.  
"Sam!" I jumped again as "Grandpa" Gary shouted, and Sam poked his head into the kitchen, "Yessir?"  
"Get the fire going in the hearth."  
"Um..."  
"Don't question me, boy, just do it."  
Sam shook his head and disappeared again as I stared at Gary with a quirked eyebrow.  
"What was that about?"  
"You'll see."  
  
After I'd finished my breakfast, Gary drew me into the living room, shooing Sam away. I could still hear him fussing around in other rooms with cleaning, but I paid it no mind.  
The remote looked oddly small in Gary's boney hand as he lifted it up and turned the tv on, telling me to sit. I couldn't refuse, and sat down in my favorite chair as he took the the couch.  
"...live coverage of this seemingly natural phenomenon..." the anchor woman on a news channel was saying, the image of a mountain range on the screen. Dark clouds were over them, blotching out the sun, lighting streaking every now and then.  
"Nothing seems able to pass through the thick cloud cover, but scientists are determined to solve this mystery. It is reported that there is high seismic activity-"  
"What is this?" I asked, as transfixed as I was by the imagery on the screen.  
"Darkness rising."  
  
  
  
  
I haven't been a skeptic all my life, but faced with all the coincidences I have been, its hard not to be when someone is telling you something you can recite almost word for word from a fiction series.  
"I... don't believe it," my voice sounded faint and small in my ears, and it was the truth. I didn't believe it, as much as my heart strangely wanted to. I gripped the ring in my hand tightly, staring at my 'Grandpa'.  
"Let me see the ring, and I'll prove it to you," he held out his withered hand, and I obediently dropped the golden band into his hand.   
I was apprehensive. This one moment would determine the rest of my life, and how I would view it from this day on. I watched intently as he cast the ring into the fire. The flames licked the gold, turning it red, orange and glittering yellow, but it didn't melt. Gary picked it from the cinders with a pair of tongs, and I held my hand out without having to be urged against my bettered judgment. I knew it would be scalding hot, and I was a fool, I knew it.  
The ring dropped heavily into my palm, cold and smooth.  
"What do you see?"  
I didn't answer, too in awe of my life slipping out from under my feet. Several moments passed, and red light began to seep from thin lines within the gold. They were thin, delicate but seemingly deep. The light shone on my face, and I didn't need to be told what it said.  
"One Ring to rule them all, one Ring to find them, one Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them," I read it, the markings all too familiar to my Tolkien saturated mind, and Gary frowned at me, "Yes."  
  
"But... how is this all happening?" I asked finally, closing my fingers around the cold golden band in my palm. The letters had faded, leaving it plain once more.  
"History, it seems, is doomed to repeat itself, my lad," he reached out and laid his hand on my shoulder.  
"History?"  
"Yes, even histories only known to man as lore, or fantasy. I find, Frodo, that anything that can be formed here," he tapped his wrinkled temple, "can be formed here, in the world over time. As it can then be destroyed through the forgetfulness of man, and resurrected through time."  
'What are you smoking?' I was tempted to ask, but my mouth only opened. My heart wanted this badly, as much of a prophesy of doom it was. If this was truth, there was nothing I could but fufill my part.  
There was a cough, and I jumped, not realizing what it was for a moment. Gary's lank frame rose from his chair, and he stalked over to the closet, ripping the door open to reveal...  
Sam. I should have known. He smiled sheepishly even as Gary hauled him to his feet, "Sam, I should have known! And what are you up to?"  
"No...nothing sir! I was putting the vacuum away and..."  
"In the dark, with not much room?" Gary peered past Sam, to see that the vacuum was already in place. He chuckled low in his throat, "You were eavesdropping."  
"Eaves? In a closet, sir?"  
"What did you hear?"  
"Not much at all, really, you two didn't say nothing much. But I know..."  
I was almost in another fit of giggles at the expression on Sam's face.  
"What did you hear, Sam?" Gary pressed.  
"You know what I heard! The whole thing... please, if you leave on this Frodo, and I totally believe it all... I mean it has to be true and all, please bring me with you," Sam looked at me with those big pleading eyes and my laughter was subdued somewhat as the whole thing hit me more fully.  
This wasn't going to just be a Ring Game, no. This was serious. There was a Ring in my palm that held all the implications of the destruction of the earth.  
I let out a small whimper, and knew no more.  
  
  
  



	3. Spiral

**Chapter Two, Spiral  
Part One: Rise of the Riders**  
  
"I feared this for some time... and now it is finally happening," the voice was familiar but barely reached me. There was something cold on my face, "but all the pieces aren't fitting together just right."  
"What do you mean?" another familiar voice, lighter and closer to me.  
"I mean that I have no memory of the wars... the wars that would be waged..."  
"What about... what about the world wars? Any earthly war? Wouldn't those count?"  
"My boy... then who is it who..."  
"Fills Isildur's part? I'm not sure."  
"What are you two on about?" I finally moaned, opening my eyes. Sam was mothering over me, holding a wet rag to my forehead as I lay on the couch, Gary sitting in the arm chair.  
"Oh, Frodo, you're awake," Sam looked a little too happy, taking the rag from my forehead. I grabbed it back from him and sat up, "Yeah, I am... what are you two talking about?"  
"Simply, my lad, trying to figure out pieces to a puzzle. A puzzle that is showing parts of itself all too quickly, and loosing track of others," Gary leant his elbows on his knees, looking smaller than I remembered, and older.  
"Puzzle?"  
"I think he's gone and hit his head," Sam sighed, sitting down beside me. I was confused, I couldn't help it if I didn't understand what they were talking about.  
"Please... will someone explain this all to me?"  
  
"Look to your books, Frodo... and you will see what came to pass, as recorded many many thousands of years later. What was related by those who still remembered. Now, darkness is rising again, and as the serpent who swallows its tail is forever coiled in a circle unbroken is our pasts and our futures. The time has come for all of us to again heed a call of a doom unforeseen by those who would remain oblivious. Some of them can sense it, Frodo, even if they are not to play a part. Some of them look at those mountains and know what evil brews within their veil. They know but do not... there are others, like you, who will have to stand up and act if anything is to be done. There are eight others who will be called to council... upon fate's bidding if nothing else. Me, Sam... Mike, Patrick... the others are unclear to me. It is up to fate to unveil them to us, sadly. She does a good job of creating this maze... this puzzle as I have said.   
You hold in your hand, now, Frodo... something that can, will, and is changing the world as we speak. You hold the key to fate there... it is up to you to change how things will be. You, with the aid of true friends," the old gray bearded man's voice had taken on a resonance that made Frodo shiver. Too familiar in a different way... familiar to some part of him that wasn't apparent on the surface. Gary, who Frodo now suspected was no Gary at all, looked at Sam before again returning his eyes to Frodo, "I long feared that he would rise again into this world. Somehow I held hope that he would be unable to, the whole incidence would be left out of the circle of time... but alas, it is not to be with my hopes. A Dark Lord has again deceived and forged a master Ring. Who he is exactly, I do not know. I believe that I have seen him but once, but seeing is not always enough to reveal an identity. He may still be greater than Sauron of old was, and he may yet be weaker. We shall see as time goes on. But for now, Frodo... you must leave this house. You must flee, and you must be quick about it. I do not think I need tell you where, nor what name you are to use. You are well aware of what fate awaits us all."  
He drew himself up, again looking tall and as impressive as an old man can look, "On with you, I must go... seek council."  
I was on my feet before I knew it, grabbing onto his hands, "No, please... you know what awaits you as well. Why then do you go?"  
"What if I didn't go? Would betrayal be known? Would I have proof to speak by? Do not question such events, lad, if you do not know for certain the outcome of it not happening. Now... go."  
  
The whole atmosphere of the world seemed to have changed as me, Sam, and Patrick drove toward my cousins' place in Boulder. Mike Brandie was the only son of a rich family which basically made up their own little district of the city, and basically owned it as well. I had plead for Mike's family to lend me a place to stay since I was selling my home. They were really confused about my decision, but I finally told them I couldn't stand being so far away from family anymore, and that Bob's departure had really torn me up. They bought it, and fixed me up with a little condo. We had the last of my stuff in the car, that's why Pat was along. It just seemed to make sense as well, and I was admittedly paranoid by this time. I didn't need to be told that Gary wouldn't be making an appearance for sometime (but I could still act worried and surprised).  
I realized with a start that the stereo was off, and Sam was staring at me. All that could be heard besides the whoosh of traffic and wind through my open window was the rumble of the car's engine. It was eerily quiet otherwise.  
"I have a bad feeling, Frodo," Sam muttered to me, and I raised an eyebrow at him, "Yeah, like what?"  
"Oh, I don't know. I've just been thinking back on something my dad said a bit earlier..." Sam didn't get to finish his sentence. The car made a sound like an elderly horse about to die, and stalled.  
I selected a few choice words and I turned the key in the ignition a few times, with no result other than one distant rumble.  
"Um, Frodo?" Patrick squeaked from behind us, and I glanced at him, "Yeah?"  
"Maybe you should look around..."  
I looked up and out the window. All the cars around us were stalled. People were yelling at each other, shaking their fists, climbing out and pushing.  
"And up," Patrick pointed. The stop light that we had been approaching showed no sign of working anytime soon. It looked as dead as the cars it loomed over.  
"Sam, get my cell phone," I was still staring out the windshield as the phone was pressed into my hand. I pressed the power button, because the display was off, with no result.  
"Is everything dead?"  
  
I never thought that I would have to walk to Boulder. Never. When you grow up in an age of technology, and suddenly nothing works, it tends to make on a little frustrated. I guess that's why I was ahead of Patrick and Sam, glaring up the road at all the useless cars, with a back pack on my back.  
Patrick came after me, humming as if nothing was wrong, with only a light load to his name. Sometimes I wish I was still only eleven as he was. I never mentioned that, did I? Patrick is thirteen, Mike fifteen, going on sixteen, and Sam seventeen. Not too major age differences, and it never mattered. Still doesn't, I just figured I'd let you in on it.  
Sam came up behind Patrick, carrying the most. He'd insisted on it. He had a backpack that was heavily laden, and one of the suitcases on wheels pulled behind him.  
  
For hours we toiled on like this, taking the occasional park bench break to rest. Patrick had finally begun to complain that his feet hurt, he was exhausted and hungry... we'd tried to head over to a Burger King, but they were closed. Go figure with every machine down. They weren't about to actually start cooking something over an open fire to appease us.  
It was another hour after our last break (I'd carried Pat for some of the time when he refused to walk anymore) that Sam stopped and shushed us.  
"Do you hear that?" he asked, looking back along the stretch of road.  
"Hear what?"  
"It sounds like... like hoof beats."  
I was about to ask Sam what he knew about hoof beats on pavement when I saw the black shape moving quickly up the road after us.  
"Hide," it came out as a rough gasp, and I dashed into a phone booth. Patrick and Sam both raced for a bench, crouching behind it. Yeah, aren't we great at hiding?   
My heart leapt into my mouth as I saw what was the origin of the sound Sam had heard.  
A large black horse, now only going at a canter was coming our way down the road. It weaved easily in and out of the abandoned cars, seemingly without the direction of its rider. The rider was swathed in black, brief glints of silver, though his massive cloak covered his steed's flanks, and the hood overcast his face.  
Slowly the animal came to a stop, only a few feet away from my phone booth. The thing was massive! It must have been 17 h.h if it was a foot. The animal's nostril's flared and it flicked its head as its rider dismounted with a thud that I could feel through the very ground.  
Although I knew the name of this creature as readily as any, I couldn't form it in my mind for my fear. I sat terrorized, knowing this black rider was looking for me, and that he'd find me.  
He lowered himself to the ground, standing on fours in a manner that reminded me of a hound. Slowly, he bent his elbows, and held his nose (hidden by the cowl) to the ground.  
The sound was perceptible to my ears within the phone booth. A distinctive, sharp intake of breath like to sniffing. I started to shake then, and tucked myself into the corner under where the phone was mounted despite the gum above my head.  
I felt this sudden urge to reach into my pocket as I saw the horse's massive head turn, and the thing on the ground give a sudden jerk. There was a faint whispering, like someone breathing in my ear as my hand closed around something cold and round.  
_ Ash Nazg Durbatulûk, Ash Nazg Gimbatul, Ash Nazg Thrakatulûk, aga burzum-Ishi Krimpatul..._  
I started to shake, feeling my hand draw out of my pocket, clasped in a tight fist, that cold circle there in my palm. The whispering went on, as if it were being murmured by the creature that sniffed at the ground in my ear..._Ash Nazg Durbatulûk, Ash Nazg Gimbatul, Ash Nazg Thrakatulûk, aga burzum-Ishi Krimpatul..._  
"Hey! Hey there!" I heard Patrick's voice, high and wailing. The horse whickered, its head jerking up, and the thing on the ground jerked upright.  
I turned my head quickly, seeing Patrick perched on the bench, waving his arms. Sam was trying to pull him down.  
"Hey, you jerk!" Patrick squeaked before Sam pulled him to the ground, and the creature swung into the saddle. The horse uttered something like a growl as it charged toward the park bench...  
  
**  
Part Two: Foolishness**  
  
I never really thought Pat was a smart little fellow, even as much mischief he got himself into. Now, I was proved right. Really, what kid in their right mind sees an _actual Nazgûl_, jumps on a bench to attract attention to himself and calls it a jerk? I wouldn't, and its not because I'm a coward. It's because I actually think now and again. Yet leave it to Patrick Tool to do just that.  
"Quiet, Pat!" I heard Sam cry as the kid fought against him. I heard this over the thundering hooves. I turned to see the rider navigating the horse around the bench, the animal obviously not pleased with this decision of direction. Sam and Patrick scurried out of his reach, going around the bench. The horse squealed and shook itself, rearing as they rounded the bench again.  
"Dammit, Pat," I breathed, slinking out of the phone booth against my better judgment. Would that be my life from now on? Doing things I knew would be stupid?  
The spokes of a bike glittered out of the corner of my eye, and an idea (admittedly pea brained) sprung to life. I hurried over to the car and grabbed the bike off the back, listening to the frantic clops of the horse's hooves, and the hiss of the rider.   
_ Just remember... this is for your friends, Frodo James Baggert...  
So?  
O, shuttup._  
I got on the bike, stared at the rider and his steed and calmly peddled past.  
What a disappointment that the only reaction I got was a hiss from the rider. So, I'd have to be a little more... um... attention getting? Something without actually waving the Ring in its face.  
Rocks! Rocks are nice. I slowed the bike, grabbed up a rock and peddled back toward my frantic friends. I'm a fair shot with a rock, so I aimed for the Nazgûl's chest, but I hit the horse between the eyes instead. Hey, its not my fault it moved its head.  
I heard my own strangled cry more than felt myself make it as the horse tore out from around the bench and headed straight at me at a full gallop. What the hell was I thinking, trying to outrun a pissed off horse on a bike?  
That's when the rider drew his sword. Oh boy, had I landed myself in a world of hurt this time!  
"Frodo, no!" I heard Sam cry, but it was too late. I was already shooting down the road as fast as I could force the bike to go. My leg muscles were screaming, and I may have been too.  
I could feel the massive animal's breath on my neck, and little flecks of foam. It really wasn't that hard for me to imagine the cold blade biting into my neck.  
Patrick had single handedly changed the way that things would go about. I wasn't supposed to be chased by this thing.   
There was the sudden loud booming barks of several some dogs, and I realized I had turned down a lane into a ranch or farm of some sort. It struck a familiar chord with my childhood, but I didn't have time to think about that.  
"Whoa there!" an old voice accompanied the dogs. An old man suddenly loomed out of seemingly nowhere at me.  
"HELP _ME_!" I managed as I wiped out on the bike, feeling the bite of gravel along my arm and side. Then I heard the single report of a gun, and a shriek from my pursuer before the hooves thundered away.  
  
"Now, what's this?" the old man asked, leaning down to look at me. Three canine faces soon bordered his, and some drool dripped on my forehead.  
"Back Grip! Back Fang! Back Wolf!" the man shooed the animals away, which I was most grateful of.  
"I was being chased!" I found my voice at last, sitting up, "My friends... Patrick! Sam!"  
"Well, I could see you were being chased plain enough, what's this about a Patrick and Sam?"  
"They're... they're back at the park bench..." saying this, it suddenly dawned on me that I had gone from city to rural in the time I had been riding the bike. I didn't think it'd been that long... oh well, blame it on Colorado.  
"Well, come on and we'll go get 'em in case that weird thing is still out there. 'Ave to use the cart though, car ain't working," the man helped me up and ushered me toward a barn, the dogs bouncing on our heels.  
  
  
It was a little odd to be riding down the freeway on a cart, lead by an old horse that looked rather drunk. The cart swayed to one side, due to a bad wheel which squeaked. The fact that the Farmer (who'd introduced himself as Mr. Magpie) was singing didn't help the situation. I resolved to stare at my scraped elbow and the road to get my mind off of the racket.  
"Frodo?!" a familiar high voice reached my ears and I looked up to see Patrick just a short distance up the road.  
"Pat! Where's Sam?!"  
"Right here, Frodo! I'm sitting on the ground!"  
Mr. Magpie stopped the cart beside my friends, and I smiled down at them, "Looks like I found farmer Maggot."  
"Magpie, thank you," the old man looked at me, then down at Patrick, "Why, if it isn't young Patrick!"  
"Hullo Mr. Magpie!"  
"What's a little fellow like yourself doing so far from home?"  
"Helping my friend move."  
"Ah, I see, I see. Get in! Get in! There's much to be said, I reckon, and not much time on the road with these weird 'uns about."  
Sam and Patrick climbed in the cart beside me (Sam making sure he crushed me in a hug before he'd sit down). Farmer Magpie turned the creaking old thing about and we were soon trundling back up the highway.  
  
We ate dinner at Mr. Magpie's house, over which we chatted and related stories of the unusual. It seemed that one of the Black Riders had already paid him a visit (asking for Baggerts no less). He'd sent him away, after a frightening encounter. Then I'd come, making the nice crash landing that I did in his drive. Needless to say he wasn't happy to see me, but more unsettled about the Rider's return.  
Sam got in a bit of a fit, when it was revealed to him that I knew Magpie (though my memory is as good as a rotted goldfish's) from my childhood. I had snuck onto his property, and stolen strawberries. I think you can piece the story together well enough.  
To make a long story short, we got Magpie to agree to give us a ride on his less than perfect cart at least a portion of the way to Boulder. Then we would have to go on ourselves.  
I didn't sleep well that night.  
  



	4. Flight

**Chapter Three, Flight  
Part One: Rider in the night**  
  
The sun rose, and me with it. Rather against my will, mind. Its not like I make it a habit to get up at ungodly hours. You can't really stay asleep (even if you haven't slept much) when an old man is shaking your shoulder and demanding you get up because he just won't harbor you anymore with freaky people running around his property after you.  
We set off down the road in the cart, the horse plodding along at what passed for a decent pace. We were bounced around more than was just, and surprisingly Patrick slept through it all. On my lap.  
Looking at the innocence in his young face, I really regret that he would be involved in all this. I wished he weren't my little imp like cousin so that my own blasted fate would never have touched him as deeply.  
Hey, at least if things went right... he'd be getting some height to his name.  
  
All through the day we went along, stopping once to let the old horse catch its breath and eat. It was amusing to see the ways that people were getting around without their cars. There were walkers every now and then, a bicycle shooting past. It seemed we were the only ones who'd gone to horse and cart as of yet.  
  
When we were again traveling (the horse wheezing but indeed tugging on), Pat shook himself from his sleep. Sam had nodded off, his head leaning on my shoulder, and I was following after him.  
"Hey... do you hear that? Hooves..." Patrick whispered, and I cracked an eye open to peer at him.  
"Yeah, and its that sad beast pulling us," I whispered back, then my ears caught the sharp _'clip, clip, clip, clip, clip'_ of a horse on pavement going at a faster rate than our cart.  
"You boys best hide yerselves," Magpie peered over his shoulder, "Someuns comin' up fast on a horse."  
"Sam, hide," I shook Sam lightly, before flattening myself on the bottom of the cart. Patrick pressed up against my side, so I put my arm around his shoulders he was trembling so bad in fear. Sam flopped down, mostly on me, followed by a tarp and a sharp 'umph!' on my part.  
The hooves came closer, and Magpie coughed, "Hey! Hey there! Who's that, then?"  
"Mr. Magpie! I'm happy to see you! Have you seen my cousins Pat and James?" I recognized Mike's voice immediately, and smiled. I did have the memory of a goldfish after all. I should have remembered...  
Sam sat up, ripping the tarp away from us, so I sat up as well. Patrick was up like a bolt, jumping out of the cart, "Mike! Mike!"  
"That answers my question," Mike laughed, swinging out of the saddle. He'd been riding a proud looking mare, who now regarded us with flared nostrils.  
He bent slightly to grab up his cousin, and give him a squeeze before looking up at me as I climbed out of the cart, "Hey Frodo! So I see you are alive."  
"Oh, luckily," I made something that was almost of a laugh but more of a grunt. Sam climbed out of the cart.  
"Luckily indeed. I noticed nothing much was working as it should, and I thought about you being stranded on the road and all. I decided I'd use one of the only forms of transportation around my place that's not guaranteed to break down and come look for you. I should have brought two mules with me, at least," Mike patted the mare's side, "Pity buses and such aren't working."  
"Or there's not a ferry anywhere near," I grumbled, trying to think how we would make it to Mike's from here. There wasn't a ferry, and that did present a problem. There was nothing for us to make the long trip on save our feet and the hooves of one horse.  
"Well, you know, I could lend you the cart," Magpie piped up, "and you could hitch that mare to it, I could ride this old beast back up to my place then. Be no problem a'tall, and I know you'd return it right quick."  
I smiled as the solution presented itself, "Oh, yes, please? Could we borrow it?"  
Mike frowned at me, "Well..."  
"You wouldn't make us walk, would you, Mike?" Good old Patrick, whip out the puppy eyes. He looked up at Mike, tugging at his shirt ever so lightly. Mike's glower broke.  
"Well, I wasn't going to make you walk, but I suppose I could spare the others. Thank you, Mr. Magpie."  
  
I watched Mr. Magpie disappear down the road as Mike struggled with his mare. It didn't want to pull the cart anymore than we wanted to be in it.  
"Frodo, maybe you should sit down," Sam murmured to me, as I was standing and everyone else was sitting. The cart would lurch every now and then, but it wasn't anything I couldn't keep my balance with.  
"I'm ok, re-" the horse squealed and lurched forward suddenly, the cart jerking forward and thus, I fell face down. I felt the wood shaking under me as the cart was surely pulled faster than it had ever been in its existence. I also felt Sam's hands on my shoulders, pulling me up into a sitting position.  
"Wish you would listen to me sometimes," he mumbled, looking at my face quickly to, I assume, see if I'd hurt myself.  
Patrick was giggling at me off to the side.  
  
**Part Two: Departure**  
  
It's kinda funny what you think about as the wind lashes at your face drying your eyes out. As the horse pulled the cart as fast as its hooves could possibly take it, I had a sudden revelation. What the hell was I going to say to Mike and Patrick? 'Oh, hey, by the way... I'm kinda having to live LoTR more than I usually do, and me and Sam are heading to...'  
Where were we going? Gary had said I would know, and it suddenly struck me that I _didn't_ know. I guess I would have to look in the phone book for a 'Prancing Pony', or something along those lines. Great. And how was I getting there for that matter? Horse back?  
I looked over at Patrick, who instantly reminded me of a puppy how he had his face turned to the wind, a silly little grin on his face. Then I looked to Mike, hunched in a determined sort of fashion on his seat, reins clutched in his hands. I was leaning against Sam's legs, so I couldn't really look at him to say what he was doing at that moment. Probably staring at the back of my head, or simply sitting with his eyes closed.  
I felt the cart shift, and slow down, then Mike looked over his shoulder at me, "We need to slow down, the sun's going down and I don't like the thought of crashing."  
"Alright... there's no electricity, right?" I was checking with him, because I wasn't even sure Magpie _ had_ electricity in the first place.  
"Everything electric or otherwise powered is dead, my friend. Only things working are all natural, simple, hydraulics I think..."  
"Guns. Magpie shot at the Black Rider..."  
Mike gave me a funny expression, "Come again?"  
"The Black Rider that chased me..."  
"Frodo, pull your head out of your ass, what the hell are you talking about?" Mike had almost turned completely around to look at me.  
"Let me tell! Let me tell!" Patrick suddenly piped up, which made me and Mike jump.  
"Ok, cos. Hit me," Mike turned his head to look at the boy.  
"After all the cars and stuff broke down, we were all walking and then Sam heard hooves, and there was this guy on a black horse that came riding up, and Frodo told us to hide so we, me and Sam, hid behind a bench and he got in a phone booth... and the rider all stopped and got off the horse and was on the ground sniffing like a dog, and Frodo was looking all weird in the booth, shaking and all and-"  
"I wasn't!" Ok, I had to protest that. I wasn't shaking. Nope, not me.  
"Yes, you were, Frodo," Sam said softly, and I shot him an embittered glance.  
"OK. Well, anyway, I jumped up on the bench and waved my arms and yelled at it and it got on its horse and it charged and and... and me and Sam were running around the bench because the horse couldn't get around it all easy like... and Frodo went and stole a bike and rode past once and like nothing happened and then he came back and threw a rock at the horse's _eye_-" Patrick went on, eyes wide as he related the tale to Mike.  
"I didn't throw it at the horse's eye!"  
"Did too!"  
"Did not!"  
"Stop it!" Mike laughed at us, "Go on Pip-squeak."  
"Yeah. And then the thing all chased after Frodo, like far away and me and Sam gathered all our stuff and started walking again where they'd gone. It was like_ forever and ever and ever_ before Frodo and Mr. Magpie rode up. Then we went to Mr. Magpie's and he said he'd seen the black riders too... and we had turkey and apple pie. It was really good. I got to play with his dogs!" Patrick smiled at Mike, and Mike scruffed his hair.  
"I really hope you guys aren't lying to me, ok? Cause if you are, its not funny and you're really going out of your way to pull my leg. Come on, that's just... creepy. We'll go a bit faster," Mike turned around and snapped the reins, the horse picking up pace a little more.  
  
"Well, here it is," I woke to Mike's voice as we stopped in front of a condo. It was dark, and well... rather dreary looking.  
"I did my best to re-create what you used to have but... you know, with such a size difference it was pretty hard," Mike turned to look at me, then Pat and Sam, "What do you say we wake them up?"  
"Thanks dude," I smiled to Mike, then tugged on Sam's pant leg, "Sam... Sam! Wake up!"  
"I'm... I'm awake," Sam grumbled, yawning.  
Mike picked Patrick out of the cart as he would rather not disturb him and carried him up the walk to the front door. I watched him juggle Patrick and the keys until he'd managed to open the door.  
  
"Now, how are we going to arrange this? Oldest first, and youngest last... or shabbiest looking first and best last? Either way, I'm first," I laughed as there came to be a dispute over who would wash themselves first, of the grime of actual... get ready for this... non-mechanical travel, "Don't forget this is my house now."  
Mike smirked at me, and Sam looked puzzled. Patrick, who'd gained a healthy amount of dirt, didn't seem to care.  
Yes, so I got to take a shower first. I started toward the bathroom, and couldn't help but hear Mike snickering.  
"What is it?" I finally had to ask. I couldn't stand it.  
"You're forgetting something. The water heater wouldn't be working, so you're about to take a cold shower," Mike grinned at me. Damn. That'd be true. Nothing _was_ working. Already, we'd littered the place with candles. It gave it a kinda... eerie look.  
"Well, what are we going to do then?" Sam sat up, "Frodo looks in sore need of a wash... and I know my muscles are. I'm not about to get in ice water. What should we do? Start a fire of newspapers, and heat water over it?"  
"Oh dear," you should have seen the glint in Mike's eyes.  
  
About an hour, an hour and a half later, there was a shallow pit dug in what served as a back yard of the condo, with its own little blaze. Sam crouched beside it, feeding the fire newspaper, and holding the water laden pot over the flames (with aid of oven mitt).  
I shook my head, watching from a distance.  
"Bucket!" Sam called as bubbles formed in the water pot, as a hint that it was beginning to boil.  
Mike set a bucket beside him, which the water was poured into, then hefted and handed off to me before it was dumped into our makeshift bathtub... a kiddy pool.  
Patrick eyed us suspiciously from across the pool, holding a few towels in his arms and a bar of soap.  
"You'll boil us like lobsters," he murmured as I poured the steaming water into the pool. I had to laugh at him, I mean... I saw his reasoning and frankly agreed with him. I didn't want to be a lobster.  
"Nonsense, Patrick, it won't be that hot when you get in," Mike said over his shoulder, which was soon followed by a, "Bucket!" from Sam.  
Soon the kiddy pool was brimming with steamy water, which I thought looked suspiciously too hot. Mike leant down and put his hand in it, "Ah, there you go... a good hot bath."  
"Your ideas of temperature are probably different than mine," I grumbled, reaching my own fingers to the water's surface. I was expecting to jerk back with an "ow!" but I guess it wasn't that hot. I just don't want to admit it.  
Like I had originally wanted, but was now reluctant, I got to go first. There was just something... undignified... about bathing in your backyard in a kiddy pool with your friends standing around.  
I undressed anyway (grumbling, mind. I won't go without protest!) and hopped in. Ok, even for a guy of my height, a kiddy pool is cramped. The only time it isn't is if you're two foot something.  
Patrick handed me the soap, and I set to washing.  
  
The bath ended when Patrick capsized the kiddy pool after majestically slipping on the soap. He suffered a bruised chin, and ego, but nothing major.  
  
We ended up cooking about the same way we'd arranged the bath. We made top ramen in the back yard, and ate around the fire, seated on towels. I knew that now was the time to tell Mike and Patrick, because me and Sam would be leaving in the morning.  
I opened my mouth to say something, but I was cut off ever so nicely by Mike, "Let's see what Frodo has to conjure now! Lo! He gapes like a grouper!"  
I frowned at him, "Will you let me speak? Or would you rather we put you on a spit and have some turkey for dinner?"  
Mike chuckled back at me, "Go on."  
"I've got something to tell you... but I don't know how to start it..." I looked up, thinking my eyes were crossing as I tried to see a curled lock of black hair that rested on my forehead. Why I thought that would help me think, I've not the faintest idea.  
"O, so I see. Well, let me help you out," I could see the smirk on Mike's face in my mind's eye, though my actual eyes were occupied with that blasted hair, "You're leaving, but you can't think of how to tell us, how to say goodbye."  
"Well, yes.... is it that," I gave up on the hair, scraping it away and actually looking at my companions, "obvious?"  
"Mhmm. You think you're hiding something great, but you're not too good with secrets, Frodo," it was Patrick speaking! He should be one to talk!  
"Huh? How-"  
"Oh, we know what's going on. We're in on it, less you nail mine and Pat's feet to the ground. As to your 'how', you should be able to guess well enough. Your Sam knows when those of higher intelligence than yours need be pulled in on something," Mike grinned across the fire at me, looking maniacal.  
I huffed, but really couldn't think of anything to say.  
  
The very next morning, I woke to a sort of wheezing noise from outside, along with a shake from Sam.  
"Uggggh-"  
"Come on, up with you... Mike's waiting with mules."  
"Mules?"  
"Yes, mules."  
"What's wrong with the car?"  
Sam just shook his head at me, and left the room. Hey! I was tired, leave me alone. You wake up at like three am and expect to know what's going on.  
Wandering outside feeling as half baked as I must have looked I blinked at the three mules who stared and blinked back at me. They were already packed to go, and one was already seating Patrick. Sam was negotiating getting on one, and the last... a sour looking beast, was waiting for me. Mike and the mare stood by, both wearing smirks (if indeed a horse can smirk anymore than it can look sour).  
"Why do you get the horse?" I grumbled to Mike as I examined what was to be my most unable steed.  
"She'd kill you," he answered simply.  
"Fair enough."  
The mule looked at me dully before its face took on a surprising transformation. Its lip peeled back to bare massive teeth at me before it attempted to bite me!I told you it was a bitter animal. It took me twenty minutes or more to get that animal to let me board its back, and still as we attempted to leave... it insisted on a sideways sort of gate. Blasted animal.  
  
  
_--------  
_A moment of stupidity: 2935 words in this chapter... 10665 in all... I HAVE **NO** LIFE!!!! -does the no life dance- ---(")  
Muahaha... and this is just the first three chapters }=)  



	5. Deeper

**Chapter Four: Deeper  
Section one: Age of Trees**  
  
I've never experienced a time before now that I would be traveling without the aid of music. Now, the world seemed a tad bit too quiet to me. There would be distant, bizarre, rumblings but it was nothing you would really call a grand experience on the frontier of boredom.  
Hours and hours of sitting on a mule (that wants to walk sideways and bite your head off) is not a fun thing. In fact, its rather painful. My legs, which were sore from my out-run-the-dead-king-on-a-horse bike ride, were screaming from straddling the bloody animal. I swear Mike picked out the worst one for me, and the saddle that needed the most repair.  
Another one of those rumblings greeted us, only this time it continued to growl on as the ground began to shake.  
"An... earthquake?" I asked over the growl, answering myself. _No, really, Frodo. What else makes the ground shake?_  
Mike was trying to gain control of his mare... which was trying to throw him off and run away. Patrick had retreated to Sam's arms, seeing as his mule was already smashing itself against Sam's in fear. Mine took a closer action to Mike's horse. The animal danced sideways, hooves making a frantic clattering sound, and reared at random moments.  
Without warning the vibrations in the ground changed direction, and were now behind us. Mike's mare screamed and shot forward, soon followed by my bothersome mule.  
"Mike!"  
"Frodo!"  
Sam and Patrick yelled after us, as if they couldn't follow. Like they were sitting on carousel horses, minus the carousel.  
"Come on!" I could at least pretend I was in control of the animal... for Patrick's sake. Yeah, that's right. Patrick's sake, not mine.  
I heard the hooves coming up behind us, so I looked over my shoulder. They were both on Sam's mule, Patrick clasping to Sam in terror. Luckily Sam had Pat's mule's reins, otherwise we would have been down an animal. The only decent one, as well.  
"Whoa!" Mike yelled up ahead, and I almost collided into him. He was frozen in one of those awestruck expressions. You know, where if a bird flew by, it could make a ten point shot for his mouth.  
"What the he-" I cut myself off, staring up as Mike was. Of course, I could have stared up, down, and straight ahead with the same result but... up seemed more appropriate.  
  
It was like we were looking up at giants, thick legs to the ground and long fingers spread through the air. In truth, they were giants of this world, but not the kind of giant you're probably thinking of.  
The small trees that are planted along city sidewalks, in little rings of cement and metal had grown massive and multiplied. Asphalt and cement was set asunder by grasping roots. Buildings were broken and abandoned, fire hydrants sprayed high into the air, moistening the dark masses of leaves.  
And what branches that held those leaves! Maybe it was my imagination, but they seemed to weave in and out with each other, or reach out for us like huge talons.  
"Huh..."  
"How long has this been here?" Sam asked as his mule stopped beside mine. Patrick dared one glance, then his eyes made a quick retreat to Sam's chest.  
"Not long... few minutes I'd say... and yet it looks ancient," Mike handed his mare's reins to me, and swung off the animal's back.  
"What are you doing?" I asked, truly not coming up with an answer of my own.  
"Looking."  
_Thanks Mike, that tells me so much._  
Mike laid his hand on one of the massive trunks, and I'm seriously surprised it didn't hiss and grab him. There did seem to be a whisper amongst the branches, but it was hard to track on.   
"What do you think, Frodo?" Mike's smile was ever persistent even when I was frightened enough to shake like a leaf (haha).  
"What do I think?"  
"This has to be the Old Wood, cousin. Come, we have to ride again," Mike went past me and his horse to Sam and Patrick, "Here, Sam. Give him to me. We can put most the packs on Pat's mule."  
"Or, this one... and I could take Pat's mule?" hey, it was an idea.  
Mike looked at me, smirking even as he took Patrick from Sam, "Ah, I see. You can't handle Bule. Makes sense."  
I decided to ignore that, and helped to get the packs on my former mule (Bule), then transferred my rear to Patrick's abandoned mule. Now, we would have to brave a forest sprung from the ruin of a city.  
  
Have you ever been somewhere, where you feel like you're about to be grabbed by something, or you're being watched like an ant under a magnifying glass? Before, I would have said 'yeah, its called being in public.' Now, I would have answered, 'yep, in this creepy forest that just appeared out of nowhere!'... then I'd be locked up in one of those nice padded rooms with one of those nice white jackets that always makes you give yourself a hug.  
I wanted out of that forest as fast as we could go, but Mike was taking his sweet time. We were relying on him to guide us because A) the mules followed that mare wherever it went and B) he was the more adventurous of us four. He went camping, hiking, you name it all the time so we expected him to be able to navigate us through safely.  
  
_"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"_ a loud, piercing cry broke the silence of the forest, which made my blood run cold.  
"Mike, tell me that was a bird," I whimpered (yes, the mighty Frodo whimpered in terror... rub it in).  
"It sounded more like an elk, cousin. But, elk aren't about this season and it was a little too high. Kinda like if your bred an elk and an eagle-"  
_ "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"_  
Terror overrode any feeling of weariness I may have had as the sound of hooves moving fast accompanied the calls.  
"Or... that," Mike looked over his shoulder, "RIDE! KEEP FRODO IN THE CENTER!"  
Great, I get to be in the center. I felt Sam push Bule's reins into my hands before I actually saw Mike urge his horse into a gallop. The mule trio took off like a lop sided creature. trying to keep up with the horse. Mike soon dropped back beside me, grabbing my mule's bridal and pulling it, making the animal run faster. Patrick was sobbing against his back, clenching to his waist.  
"Sam... is there... a tire iron or... anything in the bags?" Mike was straining to keep the horse in line with the mule, and keep the mule running.  
"Uh...uh... I think there's a little hatchet...."  
"Good, get that!"  
Sam frowned, "Its on Bule's pack, Mike... I can't."  
Mike growled in frustration, and glared at me, "Kick this mule in the sides if she won't run!"  
He dropped back even further, to retrieve the hatchet from Bule's back.  
"Yeha!" ok, it was weak, and rather lame but it was the only urging cry I could think to give the mule. I raised up in the stirrups, leaning over its neck to try and give it a burst of speed. The animal reacted by braying and trying to veer sideways. Lesson one, mule is not a horse.  
Black shapes were darting along out of the corner of my eyes as I tried to get the animal to go faster. I could hear Sam's frantic efforts beside me.  
A massive black horse burst out of the trees at my side, falling in place beside my mule with a frightening ease. Foam flecked the animal's mouth, and its eyes had a crazed sort of look to them. Like an animal pushed over the edge.  
Sudden movement drew my eyes to the rider, and that gaping black expanse where a face should be looking back at me. It, the rider, drew a knife and drew back like he would strike me.  
"Mike! Frodo!" Sam screamed somewhere, but I was locked in terror by my soon to be assailant.  
Suddenly the rider jerked, and veered to the side, Mike's horse pushing between it and me.  
"Get back you son of a bitch!" Mike, not too eloquent with words screamed at the thing, waving the hatchet in the air. The rider screeched at him, reaching out for the seemingly useless tool. The rider's horse's head snaked back to bite at Mike's mare, causing the animal to shy. Patrick was wailing behind Mike.   
I wasn't going to sit useless. I reached out, locking my legs around the mule's girth so I didn't slid and grabbed Patrick. I lifted him over to my own animal, setting him in front of me.  
Starting to ride on, I heard Mike cry out in pain. As I turned, his mare shot past me, disappearing into the trees. Sam was beside me, breathless and in tears.  
Mike lay on the ground, prone, the horse's hooves dancing on and around him.  
_ "Give us the Ring!"_ the Rider hissed toward us three, reaching out a gauntlet encased hand. Another was riding up behind him, slowly. I was sure that there was another behind me, maybe more.  
  
  
**Section Two: Bombadil**  
  
"Mike..." there was nothing I could do. Mike looked dead, surrounded by the riders. Tears spilled down my cheeks. I mean... he couldn't be dead... he just... couldn't.  
_"Give us the Ring, halfling!"_  
"No..."  
The rider rode a few steps toward me, reaching his hand out like a needy child.  
"Get away!" my voice cracked in the scream, but I didn't care. This thing had killed my cousin.  
"Sam, take Patrick," I handed Patrick over to Sam, "and ride into the trees."  
"Frodo... no..."  
"Do it, Sam!"  
A sound, like cold laughter was coming from beneath those gaping black hoods, but it couldn't reach me in my state of anger. An insane, crazed state of anger. Who in their right mind would face two Nazgûl, weapon less? Sorry, three. There was another insuring I didn't escape down the path behind me.  
Sam and Patrick went into the trees, a blur of brown gray as they rode.  
"You killed my cousin," I growled to the wraith that stood before me. It laughed again, reaching its hand out towards me, _"And I'll kill you, little one."_  
Now, perfect timing, terror hit me. _Good morning, Frodo! You're surrounded by three Ring wraiths, yep, three of those nine lovable dead kings who have killed Mike and now want to kill you for that blasted Ring Bob dredged up! How are you feeling today? Like... a paper doll torn to shreds, George.... and you?  
_  
I sat up in the saddle, shook like a terrified puppy, and stared straight ahead at what I was sure was my doom.  
  
_ *Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo!  
Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow!  
Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!  
_  
The wraiths looked around, frantically at this deep, merry voice singing utter nonsense. It didn't make sense to me, nor ring a bell for a moment, as my mind was locked in understandable terror.  
  
_ *Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My darling!  
Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling.  
Down along under Hill, shining in the sunlight,  
Waiting on the doorstep for cold starlight,  
There my pretty lady is, River-woman's daughter,  
Slender as a willow-wand, clearer than the water.  
Old Tom Bombadil water-lillies bringing  
Comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing?  
Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol and merry-o,  
Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o!  
_  
The wraiths screamed, the two in front of me turning tail and running, the third galloping after from behind me.  
I slid from the mule's back, stunned, and dropped to Mike's side, "M-m-ike?"  
He groaned, but gave no other evidence to his condition. I was overjoyed that he was alive, but still cried because there was nothing I could do to help him.  
"Now, there there, lad, no use a crying!" the deep voice that had been singing was very near to me, and I startled, looking around wildly. At last my eyes rested on a stout man, wearing a bright blue coat and shockingly yellow boots.  
"Who-"   
"Why, I'm Tom Bombadil, my lad! I'm in a hurry now, Goldberry's waiting, but two other lads come tearing out of the trees yelling 'help! help!', so Tom follows their directions. Comes upon a lad sobbing over his friend and them bothersome black riders. Come along then, not much time! Goldberry's a-waitin'."  
The man was... quite insane. Still, he was the only help I could think of existing for miles now. I stood by, while he scooped up Mike.  
  
To go into detail of our stay at 'Tom Bombadil's' would be to write a novel. Seeing as I'm trying to retell something else besides that, I've not the time here. I can say that the man was quite insane, in all actuality. But, he did get Mike up on his feet faster than any of us thought possible. He, and his wife, also fed us, recovered our animals, and made sure we were prepared for our further journey.  
Perhaps one day, I will tell the whole tale of our stay at Bombadil's.  
  
On our leaving, I found I was nearly heartbroken at saying good bye to the fair Goldberry. Alas, it had to be, and I promised I would see he again.  
"Be careful, now!" Tom warned us, riding his fat pony alongside us, "Keep straight on course, don't you bother with old stone, or cold Wights. Tom just may not be in an errand when you need him again. An' if you fall in trouble, by not listening to old Tom sing  
  
_ * Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!  
By water, wood and hill, by reed and willow,  
By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!  
Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!_  
  
And sure enough, old Tom will hear you, and come as fast as he can, then."  
  
With that, he sent us off, waving to us briefly before he bounded off into the trees on his fat little pony.  
  
"My feet itch," Patrick complained, when we were stopped for a rest. The land was flat, with an abundance of green grass. Up ahead lay what looked like (and we were warned was) the Barrow-Downs.  
"Mine do too," Sam grumbled at my side, and I came to the conclusion that yes, my feet itched as well.  
"Must have been something at Tom's," I mumbled, halfway to sleep.  
Mike was already asleep, curled up against my side. He still looked battered, but at least he wasn't bleeding or crying anymore from his wounds. I felt sorry for him.  
Patrick stripped off his shoes to my dismay (remember, by this point... we haven't exactly bathed in awhile or changed clothes). His socks soon followed and he began scratching his feet like a flea ridden dog. Watching him made me want to scratch, so I turned my attention toward the Barrow-Down up ahead.  
  
It was getting late when we finally decided to move again, toward the Down. It was really the only way we were getting on our way, so we had no choice.  
Even as we rode, a thick fog formed itself amongst the monuments in the down. Huge rocks loomed out of the fog like jagged teeth, smaller modern tombstones to a similar, lower effect.  
"Wait, I don't want to loose track of everyone. Dismount, tie the mules and horses together, and hold onto each other," I was now the voice of command since Mike was kinda mostly put out. We tied the animals together, allowing Mike to lead them since his horse was in front.  
I took the lead, Sam holding onto my waist, Patrick to his, and Mike holding onto one of the belt loops on Patrick's pants. It was a slow, confusing going as the fogs grew thicker, drowning out the world.  
Two great dark shapes loomed in the distance, masked in the fog.  
"Say, Sam, what would you say those are?" I spoke in a raised voice, seeing as it was hard to hear anything in the fog.  
"Don't know, Frodo... gates maybe?"  
"Gates!" I was overjoyed at this prospect. That would mean we could get out of here all the quicker. I ran toward these shapes, not noticing that Sam's hands slipped from my waist.  
As I drew closer to the shapes, they changed. They grew smaller and darker, revealing themselves to be two large stones, which I had no memory of seeing. Then, I realized Sam wasn't holding onto me.  
"Sam? Mike? Patrick?" I was lost in the fog, alone.  
  
  
  
  
----  
  
*= songs are from the Fellowship of the Ring.  


* * *


	6. Changed

**Chapter Five: Changed  
Section one: Barrow**  
  
Why, when you're panicking, is it so hard to remember things? I panicked in the fog, and for the life of me couldn't remember the chapter on the Barrow Downs. That seemed to happen a lot to us. Is it just like... you know, fear spreads through a group without intention, forgetfulness does to? I have no clue.  
All I did, though, was sit there and mewl their names into the fog, again... and again... oh, and then again. It seemed like I was wasting hours just roaming in a small circle.  
Then, to my terror, there was a weak green light in the fog. It was growing larger and larger as it drew near me. I cowered down next to a tombstone (RIP Jonathan McClellien yadda yadda yadda, not that you care), covering my face with my hands, sure that a Barrow Wight was going to come creeping around the corner at any moment and grab me.  
"Ho there!" I jumped a mile high with the sound of the voice, and looked up into a man's face who reminded me of someone who had drowned. He was staring down at me, over the tombstone (ewww I was sitting on a grave!) with the lantern held up high. It gave off a greenish hue, which just leant to his deathly appearance.  
"What are you doing there, then?"  
"Hi.. hiding?" ok, I was shaking like a leaf, and sounded like a little girl.  
"I see that plain enough. Up and out you get, I'm sick of ya kids running 'round this graveyard at night. Its a graveyard! You with those other three?"  
I stood up slowly, and looked over his shoulder to see what appeared to be a bicycle drawn cart in the fog. There were three people in the back, and by their shapes I judged them to be Pat, Mike and Sam.  
"Y-yes."  
"Right. I should have your heads for being in 'ere, mules and all. What the hell is with kids these days? Damn ghost stories, and horror films," he muttered and started back toward the cart. I followed after him reluctantly, thinking that he would suddenly turn around and have an ax on him or something ready to hew my head in two, "I'm gettin' my shot gun after this. You're lucky, kid. Very lucky."  
I climbed in the strange cart (forcing Pat to sit on Sam's lap to his irritation, and Sam's discomfort) and held on while the weird man peddled a hap-hazard course around tombstones, and standing stones, muttering to himself.  
When we reached the gates of the graveyard, I was surprised to see Tom sitting there on his fat pony, holding the reins of our mules and Mike's horse. He frowned and shook his head when he saw us.  
We all hurried out of that cart as quick as we could, running to Tom. I stopped and looked over my shoulder realizing none of us had bothered to thank or say goodbye to that creepy old man. But, he was already gone with a soft green glow into the fog.  
I wanted to find something out, so I ran to the mule that had all our packs, and dug through mine.   
"What are you doing, Frodo?" Sam was soon at my side, shivering and looking dazed.  
"Checking something," I replied, pulling out my copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. Flipping through the well worn and loved pages, I came to the Barrow-Wights.  
"That's not how it was supposed to happen..." I muttered, and Sam took the book from me, scanning the pages.  
"Nope, you're right."  
Mike and Patrick came over, taking a look at the book in turn and shaking their heads.  
"What did happen?" hey, I had to find out somehow, and I'm sure you don't want to read us arguing over the finer points of the Barrow Downs. Though that conversation did happen, we'll skip over it. I also don't feel like going over saying good bye and thank you to Tom, as well as being lectured.  
"You were leading us toward some of those standing stones, so I called for us to stop. I thought Sam had pulled you with us, so I turned and started to go another way, where I thought I saw light and a gate," Mike started, standing beside his horse, "so we were all walking that way when that man sprung upon us with his little cart. That thing goes so quiet, not even Sam heard him coming in the fog. He piled us all in, saying he was gunna get his shot gun because he was sick of kids running through the graveyard, and we'd all be an example. He scared the animals away, then started to peddle along through the mounds and graves grumbling and growling threats to us. We all felt oddly tired, even if we were terrified. Me and Patrick had nodded off, and Sam was well on his way when this thin little sound came to us through the fog, 'Sam?! Mike?! Patrick?!' The man got pissed, Frodo. I thought he was going to rupture, or cut our heads off how he started fussing. He turned that cart round fast, and came peddling for you."  
I pondered this, marking my spot in the book with my fingers.  
"Hmmm... but that's not how it was supposed to happen..."  
"How we met Tom wasn't how it was supposed to happen, either. How we met Farmer Maggot wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Frodo, we changed something."  
I looked at Pat, who had run behind Sam, and was peeking from around him. It was then that it dawned on me. Patrick jumping up on the bench and yelling at the wraith. Me leading it away on a bike. We'd changed small details, but they were taking a larger effect than any of us had realized.  
I sat down abruptly.  
  
**Section Two: The Pony**  
  
"Well, look at it this way cousin," the guys had managed to get me on my mule's back, and get us moving again, "nothing could be the same. For one thing, we're not in Middle Earth. That changes a lot in itself. For another, we're not hobbits. Sure that forest looked scary and old, but it wasn't really the Old Forest. It was something that was spit up from the ground. I see things are changing clear enough, but not everything can be perfect. Otherwise, what'd be the sense in repeatin'? How I see it, its kinda like flunking and repeating a grade. You don't do everything the same the next time around, in hopes of getting through."  
"But... the Ring was destroyed... how'd... how'd we flunk last time, as you put it?" I couldn't help it, I was curious to Mike's theory. I keep trying to write 'Merry', geez.  
"Yeah, the Ring was destroyed. Sure was. But, could it have been done better? Could it have been done without so much... grief?"  
"No."  
"How do you know?"  
"It was a _war_, Mike! Besides, it seems things are getting worse than they are better for us."  
"Oh, really. I don't think I almost had my head chopped off my a disembodied hand. I think a weird guy picked us up in a cart. Seems better to me."  
I frowned at him, "You were trampled by a Black Rider."  
"Sure was. But I was saved by Tom."  
I sighed, done with Mike's theory, "Whatever, we'll have to see how things go from here."  
Looking around, I suddenly remembered we didn't gather swords from the 'Barrow Downs', or whatever weapon we would have, "Ah, shit."  
"What?" Sam looked at me in concern, looking like he'd just woken up.  
"Weapons. We should have gotten something there."  
"Oh, don't worry yourself. I checked over the packs to make sure everything was there when Mr. Tom brought us back our horses, and there were some blades of good size," he held up his hands, in a gesture of length, "Lil' over a foot and not much more, in 'em. We can get them out and distribute them soon enough if ya like."  
I smiled at him, glad that he'd checked the packs for otherwise we would never have known about the blades, "No, that's ok. Let's wait until we get to the Pony."  
Sam nodded, but Mike looked back at me, "Where do you think that is, then?"  
"I have no idea," at least I was prepared for this question. Hey, they all looked to be (unwisely) for knowledge as I was the oldest, "The next town, I guess."   
  
I was in a very bad mood by the time we started toward this next town. It had been a whole day after we 'escaped from the Barrow-Wight aka Creep with a Cart' of riding before we could even see it. Now the stars and moon were out, and I felt like I should be sleeping.  
"Hey, guys... remember what my name is?"  
"Fro...do Baggert?" Sam was confused, looking at my bleary eyed. Pat, Mike and Sam seemed even more exhausted than I, since their encounter with Creep with a Cart.  
"No, Sam," Mike yawned before I could get in something sharp, "Underhill. Frodo Underhill, remember?"  
"Oh, I wasn't thinking 'bout that."  
"Of course not," I had to get something in, which earned me bitter looks from Pat and Mike. Oh well.  
A large gate, most unusual to be surrounding a town, loomed up before us. Grumbling as I may have been, I got off my mule and slammed my fist on the gate while the others slumped and fidgeted.  
"Who goes?" I jumped back when a slot suddenly opened in the gate, and a cataract riddled eye peered back at me.  
"Uh... Frodo Underhill and Company! We wish to... stay in town!" ok, it sounded cheap. Shoot me. I didn't know what to say encountered with this eye.  
"Yeah? Well, weird folks are about. What's your business?"  
Frustration... must... calm... frustration...  
"I already told you that! We wish to stay in town!"  
"Now, calm down there. Its my business to be asking questions after dark," he grumbled and the little door closed with a snap. The gate creaked open next, and we were ushered in by a haggard old man, with a bent back and a pipe in his mouth. He seriously gave me the creeps. Leaving the gate, I thought I saw a flicker of shadow over the top, but I pointedly ignored it, moving closer to Mike and Sam.  
  
We wandered around the town for what seemed hours, getting shoved and run into in an attempt to dodge pissed people, and broken down cars. It was apparent that they'd been vandalized, with their broken windows and ajar doors. Not that the missing radios even worked anymore, there seemed to be a hope they would again soon.  
"Look! Look, there!" Sam seemed happy all of a sudden, pointing across the street. There was an old looking bar there, a sign above the door that read: PRANCING PONY, HOTEL AND BAR   
A white horse was painted beside it, rearing "fine food and beer" painted on its flank. A dormant neon sign sat in one of the windows 'no vacancy', as they always look when they're off. But, beside it, large and hand written was taped "VACANCEY", very obviously spelt wrong.  
"Hotel and bar. Am I the only one who thinks that's odd?" Mike was laughing beside me, "You don't usually see that!"  
"Well, its a damn good thing we do," I was irritated even if I was overjoyed, and tugged my mule across the street, knowing the others would follow.  
There were parking spaces on the side of the building, empty except for an old beat up car at the very end. There was also a bike rack, attached to the other building. We went to the bike rack, tying our mounts' reins to the slots where the bikes normally stayed, and unpacked them.  
By the time we hauled our things into the Prancing Pony, I was fed up with the whole thing. I wanted to go home, get in my own bed, and wake the hell up.  
There seemed to be something odd about all the people inside. They were different from your normal bar going crowd somehow. It reminded me of what I knew of old english pubs, or old western saloons. I strode up to the bartender, my friends on my heels, "Excuse me?"  
"Yeah? What can I do you for?" the big brute turned around, looking at us with little beady eyes. They scanned our faces then he said, "I'm going to have to ask all yous to get out of the bar."  
I blinked at this, mouth hanging open about to say something. What? Oh...  
"Oh, um, I'm not underaged," I fished my wallet out and showed him my license. He raised an eyebrow, and looked at me skeptically.  
"Alright, then I'm goin' to have to ask the kiddies to leave the bar."  
"All we want is a room... your sign said vacancy..."  
"Right, and next you'll be wanting dinner with that. I don't got rooms for four. Get out."  
"Look! I don't care if we all have to sleep in one damn bed, all I want is a room! I'm supposed to be here, and I'm not changing anything more than I have to because of some stupid fat bartender! I'll pay you extra, whatever," the bar fell silent as I began yelling, and I felt Sam's hand on my shoulder, as if he would pull me away from seeking bed.  
"...Right. Go. Away."  
I was pissed. The Pony was an important part, we were supposed to meet with whoever got to be unlucky enough to join us as Strider here. I wasn't going to let myself wait on the street for him, or the Black Riders. I was going to get a room. Sudden brilliance! Gary would have left a note...  
"I'm... I'm Frodo Underhill! Gary... do you know Gary? He's an old man, with a gray beard and-"  
"Throwin' names around isn't helping you any. Especially since I already saw plain as day your name is Baggert."  
I look back on this moment of my life as being one of desperation... and insanity. I'm ashamed of it, really.  
I lurched forward and grabbed him by the collar, a task that almost took me off my feet trying to reach over the bar. I heard Mike yell my name, but didn't care then.  
"You want the damn world to -end-?! Everything be gone, or under the shadow of a Dark Lord?! Just give us a room! Its not like I'm asking you to saw a leg off! Though I'm sure a Black Rider or something would be glad to do it for you if I don't get a room here!" Crazy talk, crazy talk, crazy talk...  
I felt one of the guys grab me and pull me back. I slipped, and fell backwards, a bright little circle of hold falling after me. Descending upon my face... I realized then that it was going to hit me right in the eye. I was going to go blind, because of a ring. My hand shot out, and ever so gracefully, the golden band slipped itself on my finger.  
To me the whole world turned like some massive painting done in poor charcoal that moved, and like I was looking at it with a little flashlight. The sound was incredibly sharp though. I could hear heartbeats, the inhaling and exhaling of breath, a cockroach dining in the wall. Above all, I felt that I was being looked for. Like something massive was turning its attention on me while I was stuck in a little box. Ever watched a cat peer in a little box where a mouse is crouched, and you know there's no chance of escape for that rodent? That's how I felt.  
I shot off across the blurry room as if this would help me escape that sense, thudding myself against the wall. In that action, I felt my hand hit the other, and curled my fingers around the ring. It was a sheer force of will to pull it off.  
When it gave, I felt like I'd surfaced from being deep under water, my breath coming in short ragged gasps. I could see the bartender bellowing something at Mike and Patrick while Sam escaped his sights, scurrying around the tables, "Frodo?"   
I was about to call out to him when I received a scare enough that I rightfully should have been struck dead by how I jumped. The hand that had lain itself on my shoulder shifted, and tightened at my collar, pulling me up to look into a pair of piercing eyes set in a rugged face.  
  
**Section three: Stranger**  
  
"Calm yourself, Benjamin!" the man's face turned away, and the bartender stopped and looked at him, "They're with me. They can share my room, I'll pay... they seem willing enough to sleep on the floor."  
The bartender didn't seem to want to challenge this, giving the man a nod. Then I was up on my feet, and not by my own motives. He picked me up as easily as a child picks up a doll.  
"Call you friends to come," he said quietly to me, and I wasn't feeling so good about him, as I was a minute ago.  
"Sam, Pat... Mike! I'm over here..."  
  
When he'd terrorized us, and drug us up to his room I got a clearer look at our newest "friend". His features were rugged, and sharp, with eyes that glistened like a hawk's planted conveniently over a sharp nose so he actually looked like the bird. He had a fair amount of dark stubble on his chin, and dark hair that hung a little past his jaw line. I couldn't tell how old he was.  
He darted around the room, locking the door and drawing the blinds. He was dressed oddly, and that's a rare thing to be coming from me. He wore tall boots over worn camo pants, and an equally worn top. A long, ragged trench coat seemed to have grown from his shoulders, ending just before it reached his ankles.  
"You should be more careful," he finally growled, and I had to strain my ears to hear him for how softly he talked, along with the loud pattering of rain beginning to fall against the glass of the windows, "many are seeking what you carry... the eyes here aren't always friendly."  
Wow, thanks, I would never have guessed that on my own!  
"I know what I carry," I managed, smashing myself between Mike and Sam on the bed in hopes of leeching their heat. The room which obviously required a heater to maintain living conditions was so chill that we could see our breath.  
"Do you? Then you'd think you would be more careful. I suppose then, that you also know who I am?"  
"Strider."  
"I suppose you could call me that. That's who I was, I trust you all know who you were. Fate's made it easy for some of you," he looked at me and Sam plainly, "then you would also know the only thing that I ask."  
"That you be our companion," Sam answered before I could, "but you've not given us one reason to trust you, Strider! All you've done so far is haul my friend up the stairs by his shirt, and threaten to kick me and the others in the seat if we didn't come along. Not a very good impression. And how do we know you're not some play acting sneak that decided to play with our minds like the rest of the bloody world?"  
"I should have expected as much from you, Sam. What do you want then? To wait for the letter Benjamin forgot? Or, to see the sword that was broken?"  
This peaked my curiosity, and I leant forward before Sam could say anything.  
"Let's see the shards. I'm curious how this whole thing is folding out... you seem to know a bit more than we do, uh..."  
"Aaron, or if you like you can keep calling me Strider," Aaron swung a chair from the little table and sat before us. He then unlinked a sheath and blade from his belt (I hadn't noticed this in all his bending and peering around the room so I was surprised) and laid it across his lap.  
"You're in the dark, Frodo... you were meant to be. There are those who have known all their lives, those who discover as they grow, and those who don't realize until its too late," he spoke as he unsheathed the sword and lay it across his lap. The blade had been broken alright. It was a long sword, the metal aged and worn, and the leather grip patchy. Part of the blade, nearer the ornate hand guards was chipped, proving it had seen battle. I looked in awe upon this, "You... you have to tell us how this all came to be as it is now. Why...its happening again."  
"And so I shall."  
  
"You are all well aware of what happened, during the War of the Ring, so I need not go over that. Why is it happening again? I don't know. All I know is that it is, and it is our place to take our rightful parts.  
"The initial rise of darkness began with man's forgetfulness of what had come before him. All that had been lost and forgotten. Some remembered, and they saw the darkness for what it was. Still, it gained power... the rings were forged through blind alliances. Blind, until the master Ring was forged.  
"This darkness is strange, in that it is better at hiding behind masks than Sauron was. This new darkness hides behind men who think they do right, and men who know they do wrong. Look carefully at war... which wears as many faces as the Dark Lord.  
"The blade was broken, and the Ring stolen from the Dark Lord long ago. History follows it so poorly, that it is hard to tell which. I know, though, that it was still in the time of Kings and Queens, of knights and valor. It is hard to say whether or not they knew what they were involved in.  
"Still, the sword has come to me through my bloodlines. I knew what it was when I saw it first, after my father was killed and I was taken in by a family friend. I knew, without knowing, that it was the blade."  
"What Kingship is to be claimed?" Mike asked, looking at Aaron with wide eyes.  
"Not all reveals itself so plainly as the sword, or even the Ring," Aaron gave him a sad smile, "give these things time."  
  
Do you know that horrible feeling that your feet are sweaty, and itchy, but you can't do anything about it? That feeling came over me, as Aaron was answering the other's questions. I squirmed, feeling like a kindergartner.  
"Ok, sorry about this... but my shoes, they have to come off. It feels like I have straw in my socks," I grumbled, and they all looked at me curiously as if I'd said something in tongues. Aaron's eyes trained on me especially, one of those gazes that I'm sure he could see every filling in my teeth. Without me opening my mouth.  
I untied my shoes, and pulled them off, sighing with relief. They felt too tight for some reason, which was odd considering they were the only shoes I really wore and I was way past my opening for a growth spurt. The socks came next. I felt like part of a spectator sport, with Aaron watching me, and the others following his gaze. Patrick's gasp surprised me most.  
"What?"  
I looked down at my own feet. There was a fine matting of curly hair on the top, flattened by the pressure of being in a shoe. It was also obvious that there were red pressure marks on the sides of my feet and the top of my toes (where the tops could still be seen).  
"Oh...no," it was the only thing I could think to say. The others were in a sudden fuss to tear off their shoes, and see what had happened to their own feet. If they'd befallen the same fate as mine.  
"Much is changing in the world, my friends. As more open their eyes, and the darkness grows stronger. The darkness is not all that grows, else we would have no hope and the world would be torn. Do not fret. There are only small changes upon the body's form. You won't be doing any shrinking, and I doubt your ears will point so as the elves' do. At least, you're not fated to be dark creatures," Aaron watched us with keen eyes.  
  
--  
note: Sorry this took so long to get out. .  
--  
  
  



	7. Riders

**Chapter Six: Riders  
Section One: Darkened Room**  
  
The shock of finding hair thriving on our feet still hadn't worn off when Aaron  
insisted we go to bed. The room was pitch black, and I could barely see the  
others around me. Me and Sam had one bed, Pat and Mike had the other. I could  
see Aaron, a hazy shape, sitting in a chair beside the window, peering through  
the blinds. It was then that I realized that we'd changed something else. The  
room we'd been whisked off to was known, we had no other alibi. The Riders would  
come, and skewer us on their swords like little sausages on toothpicks.  
"Aaron," I sat up in bed, with the intention of telling him what was wrong with  
all this. The glitter of his eyes trained on me immediately.  
"Shh... I know what you're going to say. I'm hoping it doesn't matter as much  
as we think," he whispered back to me with the offering of a dismissive gesture.  
Then, the darkness around me seemed to be whispering and moving. I shut my eyes  
tightly, and the darkness whispered there as well. I was doomed to moving  
shadows and whispers in the night.  
  
I woke up a little while later to a hiss like cold steel, and a soft touch on  
my shoulder. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Aaron was standing beside the  
door. Sam was sitting up beside me, as was Mike in the next bed. Pat had his  
face buried in Mike's chest. The thing you have to understand about all of us,  
is that we all like to think we're brave. We're not. If I hadn't been able to  
grab Sam's hand in the darkness, I would have had a heart attack and died. If  
any of us had faced such horrors that reached for us, without being able to  
reach out for the comfort of another, we would have perished much earlier. True  
bravery is being able to admit that, and grab your friend's hand while something  
hisses on the other side of the door.  
I was going to ask what was going on, but Aaron shook his head and pressed his  
finger to his lips. A few moments later, I heard a snuffling sound, and heavy  
footfalls. Four pairs, but only one made the sniffing noise. A shadow filled  
under the door, and terror grew in my heart. There was a sound like metal  
touching metal, and the doorknob jiggled. There was a collective catch in all  
our breathing. Aaron reached over slowly, picking the little chain up, and  
sliding the latch in the place. Not a moment too soon! The door jerked open  
followed by a sound like a boiled lobster. Aaron looked at us with wide eyes,  
making a gesture for us to get down. I dove off the bed immediately, wriggling  
underneath. Sam followed me, worming in beside me. I could hear the rustle of  
cloth from across the way and knew that Mike and Pat had followed suit.  
I heard the door slam, and jerk open again to the length of the chain, followed  
by a piercing screech similar to that of a horse's. Then there was a loud  
crack. The door had split. The heavy footfalls followed, and soon I found myself  
staring at an iron toed boot. I held my breath, feeling the slight weight of  
Sam's arm across my back. The only way I held back the whimper that threatened  
to come forth was by biting down on my lip.  
The room seemed all too quiet, and too dark. Maybe my eyes were closed, I don't  
know now. I was scared enough that I didn't even realize that I had bitten my  
lip hard enough to bleed. Then the silence was interrupted by a horrible  
creaking. The creaking of old tendons, or perhaps rotted armor. More horrifying  
than that was when the tense silence afterwards was broken by a 'WHAM!' and the  
sound of steel running against steel. Moments later it was repeated, much  
closer. A blade sliced through the bed in front of my face, a mere hair away  
from my nose. It slid down, the tip ramming into the ground before drawing back  
again. The sound came from the other side, and I was sure Pat or Mike had been  
run through as there was a soft sound afterwards. I thought I'd scream as the  
blade flashed again, this time closer to Sam, slamming into the ground right  
next to Sam's neck. I was sure that it'd only be seconds before we died.  
"You want the Ring?!" Aaron's voice came sudden and loud, followed by a crash  
and glass breaking, "Then you want me!"  
Of course this was all a lie, the Ring was in my pocket. Wait, it was in my  
hand. A cold little circle in my palm. I hadn't even realized that I'd taken it  
from my pocket. Apparently the Rider's didn't realize Aaron's lie. The air was  
filled with their screeching, and I clapped my hands over my ears. Sam pressed  
his head against my shoulder, and put his hand over his other ear so he could  
keep his arm across my back. The iron toed boot jerked away.  
When the room was again quiet, I lifted the comforter's edge and peered out.  
There was no sight of wraith, nor man. Deciding that the coast was clear, me and  
Sam squirmed out from under the bed. The blinds had been torn from the wall, and  
lay in a decrepit pile of plastic and metal on the ground. The window wasn't  
open the way it should have been, but glass glittered on the ground. The pillows  
on our bed were shredded, and there were holes in it. Two, little feathers  
springing up from the tears in the comforter. The bed beside us was quiet, three  
holes. Dread rose along with bile in the back of my throat, and I rushed over,  
tearing the covers up and dropping to my knees to peer beneath the bed. Two  
pairs of terrified eyes stared back at me.  
"Mike? Pat?" I whispered, wondering if what I was seeing wasn't an illusion.  
"Frodo..." Pat cried, and rushed out into my arms. Mike followed after him,  
shaking. I wrapped my arms around Pat, holding him to my chest. Then I realized  
that the warmth I felt against my neck wasn't just tears, but blood. I held him  
away from me, seeing a thin line on his temple.  
"You're cut."  
"I know."  
We stared at each other for a long moment, and I felt oddly proud of him. He  
hadn't screamed in his fear, or pain. Again we hugged, Mike and Pat joining in.  
Already this seemed more than enough fear for all of us. More than enough pain.  
It seemed forever that we stayed like that, reluctant to let go of each other in  
case one of us should suddenly befall something. I finally drew away because I  
heard noise outside the window. Soon Aaron was staring in at us, cheeks flushed  
from exertion.  
"Come on, we need to run now," he hissed, gesturing for us to follow, "they'll  
be back soon enough. They may be a couple hundred years dead, but they're not  
completely mindless."  
  
As Aaron led us away from town under the cover of darkness, we kept glancing  
over our shoulders for Riders in the dark. The clip clop of the skinny pony  
Aaron had stolen didn't help any. Apparently our animals had been freed. We'd  
lost some of our camping supplies, but we had luckily brought our packs in with  
us.  
I glanced to Sam, who was leading our new underfed equine friend. He'd  
dutifully dubbed the animal "Bill", and taken it in like a little child. We  
decided we'd put our packs on him later, when he looked more like he could carry  
the weight. For now, he carried only Patrick. You're probably thinking 'ok, so  
you'll put a thirteen year old kid on an underfed horse's back, but not a couple  
of packs?'. Pat's a little guy, like all of us. I'm about 5'6", and I'm the  
tallest of us. Not that there's a huge height fluctuation. Anyway, Pat's the  
shortest, youngest and lightest. I thought the packs all together probably  
outweighed him, so I insisted he ride on the pony. The poor kid deserved a  
break. Aaron had bandaged his wound by tearing up one of the already shorn  
sheets, leaving Pat with something that looked like a bandana. Except for the  
little red plume that was forming where the cut lie underneath. I felt guilt  
every time I saw him, so I looked away from him and Sam to Mike at my side.  
"Mike," I started to form the words that would follow this, seeing if I could  
alleviate my guilt over Patrick by explaining myself to his closest friend and  
cousin.  
"Don't even start it Frodo. Its not your fault that me and Pat didn't scoot  
back further. The blade barely glanced him, and its not like you were sitting  
there urging the thing on to killing us. You were in the same situation as us.  
Sure, those things may be after you and I would never have had to come near them  
if I'd never been related to you, or befriended you or whatever. But you know  
what? That didn't happen so I'm going to live with it. That's what we all need  
to do, Frodo. We need to live with what's happening to us. You most of all,"  
Mike had obviously been preparing this for sometime, waiting for an opportunity  
to hit me with it, "and since we're already this far along with you... we're  
staying with you."  
"Mike."  
"What? Not like you can argue it. That'd be changing something!"  
I couldn't help but laugh a little, and slung my arm across his shoulders. It  
didn't seem like we'd just escaped from a hotel room where we could have been  
killed by Black Riders. It just seemed like we were on another Ring Game. Too  
bad this was a falsehood.  
  
"Weathertop... or what I think is supposed to be it, is around here somewhere,"  
Aaron informed us, stopping to wait for us to catch up. I should mention now  
that we were all shoeless, so we took a little longer to walk. We were just  
getting used to walking around all the time without shoes. Building up those  
calluses. Of course, we'd been walking for a few days, and all sported blisters  
and limps. So why were we shoeless? Cramped toes, itching hair, and blisters  
any ways. I felt like shaking my little fist at the sky, 'Why can't you create a  
shoe for hobbits?!' and then, any normal, sane person would drag me off to a  
mental hospital.  
  
**Section Two: Weathertop**  
  
A ruined structure jutted into the sky, like the bones of an enormous animal  
long dead. I couldn't tell what it had been, besides large.  
"This is Weathertop?" Mike asked looking up at Aaron.  
"Yep."  
He led us into the crumbling structure, looking around as he did, "I'd take you  
somewhere else, my little friends... but I don't want to risk a change that  
severe in locations. You've done pretty good with that so far, no reason to ruin  
your record. But, the thing is... with this you have more of a chance to run  
from them. Its like a warren of old rooms down those stairs... I want you all to  
be careful. You have weapons?"  
"Oh! Yes, we do!" Sam piped up when I was about to deny having weapons, making  
me remember the swords. Sam took his pack off and produced his own. I did the  
same, and Mike retrieved his and Pat's.  
"Good!" Aaron laughed, taking mine and examining it, "Little short swords, very  
good. But do not strike the Riders-"  
"Blades'll crumble," I smiled, "I remember."  
Aaron handed the blade back to me, laying his hands on my shoulders, "Then  
you... also remember what happens here?"  
"Unfortunately. I get stabbed by a Morgul blade," luckily, I didn't realize what  
this all entailed when I said that. I mean, pain hadn't hit me yet, especially  
nothing that couldn't normally hurt me. You could always blister your feet, but  
it wasn't every day you got to be stabbed by an enchanted blade. I admit I was  
stupid, and should have thought more about it so I suppose I'll excuse you  
sitting there laughing, 'What an idiot!'  
Aaron nodded, and squeezed my shoulder, "I'll be on watch."  
When he'd left, I found the others staring at me silently. I guess they knew  
what I was getting myself into better than I did. Mike and Pat had already  
experienced the Black Riders. Sam was in terror for me, and I was being my  
normal dumb ass self. You know, don't worry about me. I'm the Ringbearer... I  
have to live. I should have thought more about it not going exactly by the  
novel, more like the world as it is.  
Night again crept over us, the shadows started their whispering. I tried to  
sleep, curled against Sam as he pointedly refused to. Pat had gone out like a  
light, Mike sitting beside him like a sentinel. I kept jerking awake at every  
little noise. Sam sighing each time and trying to soothe my anxious nerves. Which  
was a virtual impossibility.  
Aaron came around sometime late in the night, and sat down with an unimpressive  
thud, "I see nothing, I hear nothing. Nothing but crickets."  
This did nothing to soothe anyone's nerves.  
"Can we have a fire?" Sam asked quietly, obviously sure that I'd passed into  
the world of sleep.  
"I don't see any harm. The Nazgûl don't like fire last time I checked."  
Sam left me long enough to help organize a fire, finally leaving with Mike once  
they'd helped Aaron find a metal barrel to create the fire in. I should have  
realized that it was wrong for us to separate from each other.  
"STRIDER!" Sam's yell startled me out of my half sleep. Aaron was on his feet,  
and Patrick was gasping beside me. Mike stumbled up to us first, Sam soon after.  
"They're coming!"  
  
We found ourselves stumbling through a dark labyrinth of twists and turns, and  
crumbling walls. I couldn't see anything around me, only hear the rushed  
breathing of my companions as we all fled a faceless terror into an abyss of  
inky black. Occasionally there'd be a loud crash as one of us barreled into a  
wall. Sometimes it was me, sometimes I couldn't tell who it was. As I came to  
rest against one of the walls trying to listen for the others, it seemed like I  
was all alone. What a pleasant illusion. Only moments later I could hear the  
heavy thud of iron toed boots, and the whisper of cloth against concrete. We  
were being chased into these corners like rabbits into their holes with waiting  
snakes. Terror made my blood run cold as the shadows in front of me moved. Four  
shapes were coming, stopped and shrouded in black.  
The shadows whispered to me, and my hand crept to my pocket on its own will.  
Soon my fingertips brushed cold gold, and the Ring was in my hand. Before I  
thought about it, the Ring made itself comfortable on my finger, and I was again  
plunged into that alien world. The shadows in front of me became suddenly  
illuminated. Four men, withered with empty eye sockets stood before me, the one  
in the center tall and proud. He looked at me with his empty sockets and came  
forward, drawing a long knife. I couldn't go anywhere, and he was drawing  
nearer.  
'Give us the Ring!' the voice was in my mind as he came closer, reaching out a  
skeletal hand. My own reached out to greet his to my horror, and his fingers  
wrapped around the one baring the Ring. I felt it begin to slip with the satin  
touch of ghostly flesh, and clenched my fingers. The pale king let out a cry of  
rage, shrill to my sharpened hearing, and pulled his hand away, the one baring  
the glowing blade coming in. It pierced my shoulder, resulting in my own  
piercing scream. Pain shot through my body from my shoulder, followed by an icy  
shock.  
"Take off the Ring!" Aaron's voice suddenly reached me, followed by the flash  
of fire in my strange world. I could still hear my own scream echoing in my  
ears, and the hiss of the pale king as he drew away to face Aaron. I couldn't  
see him as clearly as the kings, but it seemed he had a sword. He was near to  
me, picking my own off the ground and slashing at the wraiths, "Where are you,  
Frodo Baggert? Take off the bloody Ring!"  
I slowly unclenched my fingers, feeling dizzy and wrought all the way through  
with pain and ice. I fainted as the Ring left my finger.  
  



	8. Hurt

  
**Chapter Seven: Friend and Foes  
Section One: The Ford**  
  
Days passed without my realization. I slept, or spaced out as Sam fretted over  
me and the others worried. Aaron's face would appear in my line of view now and  
then, grim. The first thing I truly realized was the chime like pounding of  
hooves, and a light glow coming through the trees. I lifted my head, noting that  
it hurt like hell, and that I was astride Bill.  
"Hullo?" Aaron's voice was crisp in my ear, making me jump. Sam's hand was  
quickly on my hip to steady me.  
"Hello, do not fear, I am friend not foe!" a music like voice came to my ears,  
and soon the light broke through the trees. There was a brilliantly white horse,  
and an equally beautiful rider. He was slight, with long golden hair and deep  
sapphire eyes, "You would recognize me as Glorfindel, friends, though that not  
be my name by birth. I was sent out by he that would be Lord Elrond days ago in  
search of you... and here I have found you, and I am gladdened."  
He swung off the horse, and I could then see the slight point of his ear. Not  
as distinct as I imagined an elf's, in fact he could have gone in a large crowd  
and it wouldn't be noticed unless one were looking for it.  
"Aaron, you bring our 'hobbits'. Which one would be Frodo? The sickly looking  
one, I assume, and know that I am right," he walked toward me, leading the  
horse, "Frodo?"  
"Elf..." it was the only thing that I could say. He smiled brightly at me.  
"Not truly, but that is what I would be. I undergo the same changes as you, and  
continue to do so as you do. My name is Gabriel, formally Glorfindel. Now, come  
on Frodo... onto my horse before those things come crashing through the trees."  
Beholding this elven being made me dread seeing orcs. If an elf could be so  
beautiful, a man no less... what would the dark creatures look like? I'd seen  
four of the nine, but that told me nothing of orcs and trolls. He lifted me from  
Bill's back as if I were but a small child, transferring me to the horse's as I  
murmured, "Asfaloth."  
He adjusted the stirrups, laughing as he handled my feet to make sure the  
stirrups were proper, "Fur!"  
Sam came over to me, looking up at me sadly, "What if we changed enough that  
you won't make it over the ford? Is there a ford?"  
"Yes indeed. Don't worry about what will and what won't happen until it is  
happening, Sam," Gabriel said quietly, taking the horse's reins in hand, "Frodo  
will fly when he needs... and he will succeed."  
I wanted to travel faster now, since the appearance of Gabriel. It could only  
mean the Riders would come sooner. The sooner I would have to ride for the ford.  
The sooner something could go wrong. I was dimly aware that the pain was getting  
worse from my wound, and Sam was reaching up to hold my hand.  
Just as I had begun to doubt my feelings of dread, a high shrill cry pierced  
the air. I looked at Sam, who looked up at me sadly, Mike and Pat joining him.  
"You've got to run now, Frodo."  
"Frodo! Flee! Now, the Riders come!" that was Gabriel, somewhere behind us.  
Aaron looked at me and nodded before slapping the horse's haunch, "Run."  
It felt odd to suddenly take off through the trees, fleeing from my friends and  
those I relied on. I wanted to turn back, and pulled the horse up short more  
than once to look back. It wasn't right to leave them, when it seemed these  
Riders had non qualms about hurting others that didn't bear the Ring. I didn't  
want to leave Sam, or Mike, or Patrick. I could still see them as I wheeled the  
horse around.  
"FRODO! RIDE,FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, RIDE!" Sam's yell prompted me more than  
anything. I pulled the horse's head hard to the side, the animal wheeling around  
as I did so, and nudged him hard in the ribs. He took off at a full gallop with  
a little squeal and a kick.  
Other hoof beats thundered in my ears very suddenly, as black shadows separated  
from the trees. One of the Riders drew even with me, his horse baring its teeth,  
eyes rolling white. The animal itself was horrifying, but the Rider more so. I  
found myself staring into a black abyss under a hood where a face should have  
been. I felt it staring back at me, which sent a shiver up my spine. Holes  
shouldn't stare back unless there's something dangerous lurking in them.  
Another horse and rider rushed out of nowhere, the horse's ebony chest slamming  
into the neck of the delicate animal that was my steed. Asfaloth screamed,  
trying to turn and rear in the same moment. I was sure that this would be where  
I died. Why so sure? The Rider beside me's horse reared in the same moment,  
razor sharp hooves flashing dangerously close. Scarier, they were accompanied by  
the dull gleam of old steel which meant the Rider had drawn his sword.  
I pressed myself down as Asfaloth's hooves hit the ground, sliding on the side  
of his saddle and stretching with his neck. The sword flashed above me, close  
enough that it wouldn't have just decapitated me had I been sitting up, it would  
have shorn me completely in half. Problem is, I couldn't stay hanging off the  
saddle like I was, and the sword wielding thing was soon to notice my leg still  
across the saddle. As soon as I thought this, a guantletted hand closed around  
my ankle. As I instinctively squirmed in pain, Asfaloth swerved, slamming into  
the horse on the other side... which meant I got to meet the Rider's leg and the  
horse's shoulder. I heard another blade being drawn as I struggled away from the  
Rider's grip, and to keep my hold on my own horse. There only seemed one logical  
thing to do. Besides drop dead and save my dead pursuers the trouble of chasing  
me through trees. I wrapped my arms around Asfaloth's neck, and swung off the  
saddle. Asfaloth grunted, swinging to the side and stopped as the two Black  
Riders raced ahead.  
"Sorry," I apologized to the horse, you got a problem with that? Then I swung  
onto Asfaloth's back again, turning into the trees and racing back where I'd  
come from. I heard another call as I was riding, so I weaved in the opposite  
direction, looping around random trees before again racing forward.  
Something, no... three something loomed out of the trees at me, bringing yet  
more terror to my already pounding heart. Large hands, grotesque features,  
massive. Then it struck me. Trolls! The three trolls. I would have laughed if I  
wasn't so scared, or if I couldn't hear hooves behind me. A bridge came next,  
and we shot across it without hesitation. It trembled and swung at the force of  
Asfaloth suddenly jetting himself onto it, but I supposed the horse was already  
too scared to do anything to turn himself around. I pulled him to a stop when we  
reached the other side. It wasn't a very long bridge, see. Anyway, I grabbed my  
sword and slashed at the rope lashes that held the bridge. Only then did I see  
how amazing it was that me and Asfaloth had crossed without the horse plunging  
us to our deaths. The bridge fell just as five of the riders appeared on the  
other side. I felt a certain triumph that I'd gotten there faster. This was  
quickly dashed as one if the big horses backed up, its haunches tensing, then  
made a running leap. The animal and rider soared through the air, a flying mass  
of black, the horse stretched to the extent of its body. It seemed for a moment  
they couldn't make it. Then ebony hooves touched to the ground, and me and  
Asfaloth took off, not waiting to watch the others take hellish flight.  
I was beginning to wonder where this illusive ford was as I continued this hard  
riding despite my pain. I started to hope hearing the trickle of water, but they  
were dashed as I came along a rock wall... and a stream. It couldn't have been  
higher than my ankle. I paused at this, and knew I was screwed because four new  
shadows paced out of the trees (the rest of the nine), and I'd changed  
something. The guys wouldn't be able to cross and force the Riders to the water  
with fire now because I'd cut the bridge. I was on my own.  
  
It was one of those moments where everything gets quiet. You're staring at your  
death, its staring back at you, and your future is set. You're making your  
prayers and essentially kissing your butt goodbye. That's pretty much what I was  
doing as the Riders formed a sort of semi-circle around me, of black steed,  
cloth and old steel.  
Some sort of thought came back into my mind as they reached towards me,  
hissing, "The Ring! The Ring!" My heart kicked up a pace, seeming to electrify  
my body even if I couldn't feel the left side.  
"No! Go, go away! You'll never get it, nor me! Go back to hell!" yeah, so you  
hear that sort of thing a lot, but it was the only thing I could think to say.  
"Come here, come here, and we'll take you with us!" one hissed, along with a  
cold sound something like laughter. Now I was determined. I wasn't going to die  
a shish kabob against a rock wall. If needed, I'd swallow the bloody Ring and  
climb. Numb or not.  
The lead Rider spurred his horse, riding toward me with his guantletted hand  
reached out. Asfaloth screamed, pressing himself further into the wall and  
essentially crushing my leg. Good thing it was numb. That's when I heard the  
water. Pouring over rock, bringing other rocks with it. It sounded almost like a  
stampede of horses in the distance. The other riders were drawing across the  
void between me and them. It seemed they'd reach me, when the waters did come  
literally galloping around the corner. It looked as if white horses and riders  
rode made of foam with the massive rush of water, straight at me and my nine  
pursuers. I threw my arm up over my head as it slammed into me, with the scream  
of horses before I heard nor saw anymore. 


End file.
